The 99th Platoon: The FlatFeet Saga
by gappap
Summary: Act One: Total War A S.A.D. mission ends up going terribly wrong, placing the Platoon in jeopardy. Act Two: Operation FlatFeet See here why FlatFeet earned a Saga of his own. Act Three: Into the Lair Prepare to meet the Platoon's deadliest foe
1. The Saga begins

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N The first three-part mission ever and the first successful string we'd had in a while. This was a sort of revival after we had fallen into the pits for some time. It'll be long but frankly as a whole it was one of the best. Now for the basics: Acts 1 and 2 were started by 00 "PatrickSim" Oreos and the third and final act was started by myself. If you want to use any non-BFD related media from any of the three parts you have to ask either Oreos or myself. Don't let me see this or any other story anywhere other than fanfiction.net. I have permission to re-write this mission in a readable fashion by all the troops involved, each and every one of which contributed towards the fulfilment of this mission. I think that's all. Well then. Here goes nothing.)  
  
Chapter 1: The Saga begins  
  
"Listen up you piece of ****!"  
"Hey!" Pyst yelled. "We don't work for you any more, remember?!"  
"Pyst!"  
Pyst's rougher-than-usual visage locked into Oreos' gaze.  
The Disbanding had been tough on all of them, none so more than Oreos. It was hard enough trying to find those that he could for one meeting with their former employers, let alone try to convince them to come. For once he had even left a bit of a beard. It didn't suit him, but razors were more of a luxury nowadays.  
  
Pyst missed the heyday…the golden moments…the rush of battle. Civilian life was eating away at him. He couldn't take it much more… He imagined most of the others were going through the same thing. He hadn't heard from Sarge in a little under a year, and the Platoon had never managed to gather again without arguing, getting into a fistfight or, sadly, completing a mission.  
  
"Am I interrupting something here?"  
  
While most of them looked worse for wear, she still managed to look surprisingly stunning. Her fur with that soft brushing of lilac, her eyes with their crystal, intense gaze, she folded her arms and looked around at those in the room.  
Oreos' heart lifted, as did that of all the former 99th. Deja's presence was always a mood lifter back in the day and seeing her once more stirred their thoughts…perhaps there was hope…perhaps there was still a chance. If this mission pulled them back together, Oreos thought, then it would be worth any risk…  
  
Deja took a seat at the far end of the table. The foul-mouthed Major looked down at them.  
"May we proceed?" He looked at Oreos, the second-in-command back when the 99th was at its peak. Oreos nodded.  
"Just tell us why we're here Adass."  
  
"I'm not going to lie to you. Before you left, you were the best we had. We've sent numerous battalions to clean up the latest mess, and all have failed. We need your squad, the 99th. It's right up your alley. Island; base; a chemical compound that needs retrieving and then a nice clean up job."  
"Who's behind it?" CoolGuy asked. The most expensive article of clothing he had at the moment were his sunglasses… He needed some cash.  
"While you guys were out of action someone got the old factories going…it's the Tediz."  
"Again?" Mon asked. He had gone from surgery to surgery but all the positions were filled. His unemployment benefit was near spent for this month…and there were still two and a half weeks to go…  
  
"We suspect your old acquaintance, The Commander, is pumping the units out from…somewhere." He stopped.  
Cartman rubbed the side of his chin in a very good imitation of The Godfather.  
"So you're telling us that you don't know where he is?"  
"Is he with the Chemical?" FlatFeet asked. FlatFeet still wore his wedding ring, even though Cherry had…vanished…all those nights ago…  
  
"Most probably not… We'll address him in the future. Right now our priority is the Chemical."  
"What is this 'Chemical' known as?" Stealth asked. His blade…his ivory handled glittering goddess… He was forced to pawn it to make some cash… Perhaps he could ask the Agency to get it back…  
"Chemical X," the Major replied.  
  
Squeaky scoffed a laugh. Squeaky was perhaps the least changed of the lot. He still looked, dirty, dusty and short.  
RedStorm stared at the Major with his icy blue eyes. He was out of shape and his staff motion was turning slowly away from graceful and more towards clunky. A mission would be perfect right about now…  
  
"Look, you do this for us and you'll get 15 grand each…"  
  
An uproar started around the table.  
Ricy stood up.  
"I make more begging on the streets!"  
Everyone turned to look at the snowy white Hawk.  
"Uhh…metaphorically."  
  
Disregarding Ricy's peculiar outburst Oreos turned to face the Major.  
"We're talking 300 grand each here or none of us show."  
"On one condition."  
"Name it."  
"We get to send a predetermined soldier in with you."  
"Fine. Do we know him?"  
There was a pause as the Major passed a photograph down the line towards Oreos.  
"No. Conker's loosening up the ground force entrance conditions, says we need various kinds of troops. We've now had a flood of new troops from all over trying to join the Windy Army Corps. You should see the variety. It's really something…"  
"And he is?"  
"He's a Hedgehog from the Woods over to the East. They make great sprinters."  
"Ok. We'll take him. Do we get paid upon delivery?"  
"Of course."  
  
Everyone turned to Oreos.  
Deja smiled inwardly. Sarge had made a good choice with Oreos as the second-in-command. He'd be taking on the squad alone for the first time. It was a big step.  
Oreos looked at her.  
"I'm not Sarge…"  
"There's a saying Oreos…" said Deja, "It goes: You're only as good as the people you hire. Wherever he is, believe me when I say that he'd be right behind whatever decision you make, regardless of the outcome."  
Deja had said just the right thing at the right time…it was her gift.  
  
He stood up, pausing to reflect on something Sarge had told him a little before the Disbanding.  
  
_"Remember what I'm about to tell you Oreos… The final test of a leader is that he leaves behind him in other men the will and conviction to carry on…"_  
  
*!BANG!*  
  
The door to the abandoned building the Agency had picked out for the brief burst open, a vicious wind whipping through. The wind lashed at the leather coat, causing it to flutter and hiss in the breeze.  
Dark smiled a toothy grin.  
"I'm in."  
  
Oreos looked at the Platoon. He smiled then looked up at the Major, his face hardened.  
"That goes for all of us."

***

"I haven't been here in a long time…" Oreos whispered to no one, passing his paw along the wall as he walked down the all too familiar corridors. His boots clicked along the linoleum, walking of their own accord with an almost mechanical action, taking Oreos back to the section of the Agency actually given to the 99th Platoon in their transfer from the regular Corps.  
  
::C-Lab::  
  
The swing doors to the laboratory creaked loudly with disuse as Oreos forced his way back into Chael's pride and joy.  
The lab, once bursting with motion, energy and creation now lay dusty and abandoned, the experiments cleared, the monitors packed away…  
Oreos remembered the long nights Chael would spend in the lab, with WWW occasionally stopping by to lend a hacking hand.  
  
"It's a crying shame isn't it?"  
Oreos spun round on his heel. Chael sat on one of the cleared desks; his legs crossed tightly, his arms folded across his chest. Removing his wrap-around shades he gazed at Oreos with his characteristic pink-red eyes.  
"I thought you wouldn't show."  
Chael hopped down off of the desk and walked to face Oreos.  
"I wasn't going to."  
Silence.  
"You need a shave…" said Chael, his mouth twisting into a smirk. Oreos ran his fingers along his chin.  
"Yeah. I know."  
They laughed and shook hands.  
"Where the hell have you been?"  
"Studying…I'm now a PhD."   
Oreos whistled, impressed.  
"In what?" he asked.  
"Physics: Physical, Energetic and Metaphysic."  
"Did they tell you about it?"  
"Yeah."  
"What do you think?"  
"We should be fine…they're good soldiers…"  
  
Pyst grabbed a towel from within his locker, twisted it and proceeded to whip Ricy from afar, as Ricy pelted Pyst with bars of soap.  
"Hey!" Cartman yelled out, soap suds stinging his eyes, "Who turned the water off?"  
Squeaky and Mon struggled with each other's arms in an arm wrestle. A few notes were scattered beneath them as CoolGuy and RedStorm cheered them on.  
Dark sat over a steam vent, a towel over his head, breathing in slow, controlled, breaths. Stealth sat next to him, leaning backwards against a wall.  
Further off FlatFeet gazed, hypnotized at the photo taped to the back of his locker. It was a photo of Cherry and his wedding day… Unconsciously he began twisting the band of gold around his finger.  
With a slight *crack* Pyst nailed Ricy with the towel.  
"OW!"  
He began cussing but very soon fell silent, as did the rest.  
"Uhhh…Deja…this is the guys' locker room…"  
CoolGuy stared at Deja, bare save for the towel wrapped tightly around her chest and abdomen.  
"I know. The girls' is closed down for repairs."  
Deja made her way over to one of the shower cubicles. Before locking the door, she turned to stare at the Platoon.  
"Don't make me kick your ass."  
"Why don't you kick **my** ass babe?" Ricy smirked.  
Ricy saw the bar of soap point-three seconds before it smacked him squarely between his eyes. Deja shut the door and slid the latch across as Ricy held his head in pain.  
"She must be working out…"  
  
Chael pulled one of the cupboards open, a dust cloud emerging from within. He grabbed some equipment and spread it across the nearest table.  
Keying in a fifteen-digit code on the pad under the table caused a panel to slide out from the back wall revealing Chael's old sniper rifle. He instantly went to work attaching the equipment he had removed to his sniper. A remote explosive launcher latched to the underside, an explosive clip slammed into the launcher and extra clips strapped over his shoulder. He slid into a Kevlar vest and whipped his backpack up over his shoulder.  
"I'm ready to go."


	2. One of those days

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N Well it's been a while since I've put pen to paper and since then a lot has happened. The Platoon is back in the fast track and enjoying the fruits of a successful mission… Things are on the up. So it's back to writing the fics I go, and hopefully I'll be able to knock this one out of the way and in this way not only introduce you, through this trilogy, to the birth of one of the most dangerous 'bad guys' the Platoon has met but also set the scene for the final closing Fourth part, making this an extended quadrilogy. It's like "Alien" all over again… Heh. Read & Review if you feel like it.)  
  
Chapter 2: One of those days…  
  
**_::2300 hrs::_**

  
Oreos opened the plane's door as they neared the drop point. The plane's soft drone mixed with the cry of each breaking wave as it washed ashore. This was it. The drop point.  
They had all been trained for drops, it was part of their basic training, Squeaky however had taken the time to build on his parachuting capability. He was leading the drop.  
Everyone had been hooked up to the running pole, leading up to the eventual jump where the parachutes would open automatically as they left the plane. They would disperse around the island and meet up for the break in.  
  
"Ok guys! WAVE ONE! MOVE, MOVE, MOVE, MOVE! C'MON GET OUTTA HERE!" Squeaky yelled his arm milling around, urging wave one to hustle.  
"Jeronimo!" Pyst yelled as he leapt out of the plane. Dark followed, his hands tucked tightly to his chest. Chael followed, his hands spread out wide. Ricy clipped his helmet on tighter. He would be doing the dive without a 'chute.  
"WAVE TWO!"  
CoolGuy, FlatFeet, Mon and Deja fell out of the plane as it made its way over the target. Ricy spread his wings to maximum wingspan and back to rest again. It'd be a hell of a strain on his wings, now that he hadn't exercised them in quite some time.  
"THREE!"  
Stealth secured his sword. The Agency had come through for him. He leapt out after Cartman and RedStorm.  
"Ok guys…see you down on the ground…" Squeaky grinned. "**BURN BABY BURN**!!!!" He was gone.  
Oreos turned to face the new recruit that sat quietly, pressing closely against the plane's interior.  
"What did we say your name is?" Oreos yelled over the roar of the plane.  
"Blaze S. Reinhart, sir!" Blaze shakily stood on his feet and made his way towards the door.  
"Do you like flying Blaze?"  
"N-not really sir…that's why I joined the ground troops…" Blaze shrugged. His red and black hair grew harder as it moved towards his neck, eventually becoming a series of spike-like fins that protruded from his uniform.  
"Well Blaze… Welcome to the 99th…the place where wonderful things can happen!" Oreos laughed.  
  
With a firm…shove…of encouragement Blaze shot out of the door, hurdling towards the island below. It was now time for the last two. Oreos turned to face Ricy.  
"You sure you wanna do it this way Ricy?"  
"Yeah Oreos…I have to."  
"Okay Ricy…take care."  
"10-4 Oreos."  
With that Oreos was gone.  
  
Ricy gazed out of the door his eyes locking on to his target…he took three steps back and launched himself out of the plane.  
  
Tucking his wings to his back he sliced through the air like a knife. The wind howled around his face as he sped towards his landing spot…using the tips of his wings he adjusted his course with surgeon's precision. He slowly unfolded his wings, allowing the wind to slip underneath and fully open them.  
His shoulders pulled backwards as his wings were strained against the wind. He began flapping to try and regain some control before the landing. Ricy lifted his incoming angle into a shallower course.  
Dust kicking up all around him, he rolled to a stop. Standing up he unclipped his helmet and got to work.  
  
Security was tight to say the least. There was practically no way in. The only way was through the door guards. Essentially not an issue, Dark thought, but it would be a little difficult to take them out without letting all the others know that they were inside.  
Dark was on his way. He rose up, out of the water and onto the beach, ever so slowly. His dark complexion melted into the night. He unsheathed his sword, pulling it from the tight seal that has bound it in for so long…  
  
Deja cut her parachute cords and quickly vanished into the dense island foliage. She got out a pair of binoculars and spied Ricy's progress on the roof. He wasn't doing too badly…  
  
"It's gonna be one of **those** days…" Mon sighed. Reluctantly he raised his arms skyward.  
Life, currently, was not peachy. Due to the wind factor he parachuted off target, landed right in between a gang poker-playing Tediz and was now under close watch by two Tediz as the other went off to alert higher powers…  
"And that god-damn itch on my crotch isn't helping!" Mon hissed. The Tediz tightened their grip on their weapons, while hissing and jeering at the captured medic the whole time. If his elbows dropped below his ears, he was dead. And that itch was calling his name…  
"Life's a *****"  
  
The Tediz was running back to base, ready to blow the lid on the Platoon's surprise attack when a thin, cold, steel blade pressed against his neck. The last thing he felt was the painful shredding of his flesh. He let out a small painful groan and fell to the ground, face first in a puddle of his own blood. Dark knelt down, searching the grunt. He gave it a quick pat down and found a key card.  
"Bingo," the Panther grinned.  
  
FlatFeet swung from side to side as he struggled to free his parachute of the tree that held it captive. With a loud *CRACK!* the branch supporting him snapped in two, and FlatFeet found himself hurdling towards the ground.  
"SHHHHHHHHHHIIIII-"  
In a cloud of dust and to the sound of a soft *_whoosh…_* Blaze, the Hedgehog, appeared underneath the falling Squirrel, catching FlatFeet in his arms.  
"T-Thanks," FlatFeet stammered. Blaze nodded.  
"Woah…Uh…I didn't know that you two…" Squeaky sniggered as he walked towards Blaze and FlatFeet. Blaze quickly let FlatFeet down.  
"Hey! It's not like that!"

"Heh. I'm just playing…"

The two Tediz looked nervously from one to another. Mon's confidence grew as he realised that the Tediz messenger had obviously been…intercepted.  
He decided to take a chance…  
He took a deep breath and flipped backwards, landing behind one of the Tediz. He forced it to open fire on its comrade before spinning it round. The Tediz blinked stupidly as Mon flipped onto his hands and whirled round, kicking the Tediz multiple times in the face. As the bear teetered, stunned, Mon drew his scalpel and gave the Tediz a quick tracheotomy.  
Mon looked up at the night sky.   
"Thank you."  
  
Ricy was busy sawing a hole into the main security room. He had carefully set up the necessary equipment when he heard harsh Tediz garble coming from behind him. He turned to face a Tediz with a bayonet. The Tediz pointed the gun threateningly in Ricy's face. Ricy smiled.  
*sh-_ting!_*  
RedStorm had twisted the release latch on his staff, adding three deadly blades to each end of his combat staff. In three strokes the Tediz was dead.  
"Get back to work…" he told Ricy, keeping an eye out for any more guards, "We've got a job to do."  
  
CoolGuy walked nervously towards the base. He held twin pistols tightly, ready to fire on the first thing he saw…  
He was near the base now. He saw a sleek black figure zip a key card through a door and enter quietly. Dark was in the building. CoolGuy ran as fast as he could in an attempt to reach the door before it closed…  
CoolGuy swore as the door slid shut.  
"Step aside…"  
CoolGuy spun round like a top, pistols ready. Stealth quietly pushed him to one side. He drew a lock pick and began to work at the keypad. CoolGuy eyed him caustically.  
"It just needs patience…" Stealth whispered. He gave up on the lock pick and drew his sword. With one sleek and well executed manoeuvre the locking device cracked in two, and the door opened.  
"Patience?" CoolGuy asked. Stealth shrugged.  
  
Chael was making his way towards the target.  
"Damn stealth entrances…they never work anyway. It's always screwed up…and usually by Pyst!"  
Chael's radio switched on.  
*Hey! I heard that!* Pyst retorted as he made his way towards the base. Chael turned the volume of his radio down.  
"Stuff that…our entrance is probably known already. Why the hell am I still talking? There's no one listenin-" Chael froze. He could smell something cooking. Following his nose, he made his way to the source of the smell. He found two Tediz cooking something in a pot, unawares of the attention they were drawing to themselves. He fired his sniper twice and moved into the clearing. He picked up a fallen spoon and tried some of the liquid in the pot.  
"This is possibly the worst tasting **** I've ever had…"  
Spitting, and gagging he moved away.  
  
Moments earlier Oreos had run across the same clearing.  
The two Tediz that had been cooking had gone to quickly look for more firewood. Seeing an opportunity, Oreos quickly ran up to the pot. He tasted the brew.  
"Not too bad…" he thought. He helped himself to a second spoonful. Just as he was about to leave a thought occurred to him…  
"Damn Tediz, eat this!" he unzipped his pants and pissed in the pot…  
  
"Just my luck…" Cartman sighed, seconds before he found himself surrounded by Tediz bayonets. One of them was making motions signalling that Cartman should put his hands up. Cartman bit his bottom lip in thought…  
"What the ****…" he thought, "I'm going to jail anyway…"  
He drew his radio.  
"**The snake is alert!**"  
In a hail of bayonet butts Eric Cartman was out like a light.  
  
Ricy slipped into the security room and froze. The red alert had been tripped as soon as he entered the room.  
"What the hell happened?!" Redstorm yelled.  
"It wasn't me!" Ricy snapped back, "I made sure it wouldn't be me!" He gazed at the security monitors and saw Cartman's photograph. Ricy smacked his forehead.  
  
Oreos pulled his radio out.  
"Alright! WHO DID IT?! Dark…"  
*I'm in the base… What just happened?*  
"You mean you didn't set off the alarm?"  
*Hey. You know me better than that.*  
"Pyst?!"  
*What the hell is this? Gang up on Pyst day?! I didn't do anything!*  
*You mean you didn't have time to do anything…* Deja answered.  
*It was Cartman. Bad jump. He landed smack bang in a patrol* Ricy reported.  
"What!?"  
*You heard me boss. Eric Cartman's a P.O.W.*  
*It _is_ one of those days…* Mon sighed.


	3. Illfated consequence

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N Ah…it's been a nice lazy day today and since I've got about eight weeks till I have to start stressing out over exams I'm using some of my free time now to knock back a few chapters off of this Saga. Just a little note to the Platoon members involved: I've rehashed some of the events and rearranged the order they're in to make them move in a more linear fashion. If you really have any discrepancies over any of the events described, feel free to notify me of my error… Well the story's starting to warm up at this stage, as it usually does at about chapter 3, so without further delay, read it (and if you appreciate it) review it too…)  
  
Chapter 3: Ill-fated consequence  
  
Dark placed his radio back on his hip. He could do nothing to help Cartman. That was someone else's task. He had to get down into the basement. Now that security had been alerted, it would be a bit more difficult. He slid his combat knife from his boot and crept up behind a passing sentry. The panther placed his left hand over the victim's mouth, and slid the blade across its neck in a half-circle, opening up the glands and arteries. Green blood spilt out onto the floor, as Dark heard footsteps approaching.  
  
Dark's lower lip curled. Quickly, he stashed the body in a shadowy corner and tore the swastika off of its arm. He took off his trench coat, folding it neatly and held it over his arms as he tied the swastika around his bicep, disguising himself as a member the Tediz/Panther Coalition. He arose from the shadows, saluting another sentry as it passed. He sighed with relief as the Tediz turned the corner.  
"Now this could be interesting…"  
  
He walked towards the elevator leading into the lower laboratory compound. Tediz grunts quickly got out of his way. They had heard that these Panthers were weird ones…  
Dark called the elevator and walked in as the doors slid open. Four Tediz in lab coats were inside. As soon as they saw Dark one of them spoke up in protest. Dark, unlike the real Panthers in the coalition had no knowledge of Tediz. He sighed.  
"I really wasn't planning on this."  
The lift doors closed as Dark drew his sword…  
  
FlatFeet and Squeaky had headed straight for the base when the alarm was sounded, while Blaze dashed to the back of the base to find an alternate path to the lab compound or Cartman…whichever came first.  
He spied a metal pipeline leading towards the base that was slowly trickling water into the ocean. Blaze switched on the Infrared on his binoculars. The pipe was relatively hot…it must've had something to do with the heating/cooling system. He moved closer. He gingerly touched the edge of the pipe. The temperature was bearable…for now at least. Taking a deep breath he began his long crawl through the pipe…  
  
Eric Cartman was shackled to a wall and in bad shape. The manacles around his wrists were far too tight. Cartman's grey fur was died crimson around his wrists where they had cut into his skin. His lower lip had burst and he had a black eye. He could tell that he was most probably bleeding internally. It pained him to breathe and a soft wheeze could be heard every time he breathed out.  
His cell door swung open as a Tediz walked in. It grabbed a stool and sat confidently across from Cartman, staring at him intently.  
"I would like to complain about the room service here…" Cartman rasped.  
"Always funny aren't you? You bloody stupid 'nintey-niner'…who thinks of these bloody names anyway?"  
Cartman raised an eyebrow.  
"You speak English?"  
"One of the few… Now that that's out of the way, let me ask you a question…"  
"Shoot."  
"Don't tempt me. How many are there?"  
"Can't your security systems tell you that?"  
The Tediz looked sour.  
"That bird and red Squirrel got there first… But that was taken care of…" it smirked. Cartman's brow furrowed.  
"You're bluffing."  
"Whatever helps you sleep at night I suppose…"  
Cartman refused to believe it. Ricy and RedStorm were good soldiers… The Tediz was just playing with his head… This was the easy stage. He'd keep on refusing to give answers and they'd use increasingly 'persuasive' methods…until he would finally crack, spill the beans and then be executed on the spot…  
"Guys…" he thought, "If you can hear me…I'm going to need your help."  
  
CoolGuy and Stealth pulled the lift doors open as fast as they could and quickly slid down the cables to land on the lift itself. They hopped into the elevator. CoolGuy covered his nose.  
"Damn…that reeks."  
"We're on the right track," Stealth mumbled. CoolGuy looked at him with a look that said it all… They opened the doors. Sure enough Dark was at the end of the corridor, sword in hand, staring at the lab door ahead. He turned to face the other two.  
"A retinal scanner protects it. None of the guys in the lift had clearance…."  
CoolGuy made a face at the sight of numerous eyeballs on the floor. Dark broadcasted the message over the radio.  
*Damn it!* yelled Oreos *Another hiccup… Who's good with that technical stuff?*  
The sound of heavy breathing came over the radio.  
*This…Blaze…using heat system…hot…trying to reach the lab…be there A.S.A.P. Out.*  
  
Ricy ran through the foliage surrounding the base. He was running for his life. They had stormed the room immediately…he barely had time to disable the security system…And RedStorm…  
_"Hurry up!"  
"I'm going as fast as I can!"  
Ricy's three fingered hands weren't adapted for the standard type of keyboard. A giant X appeared on the screen as Ricy was once again denied access to the emergency override…  
RedStorm's staff sung a soft baritone tune as he whirled it through the air, mercilessly slashing away at the Tediz that had stormed the control room. He was holding them back as best as he could…but he was outnumbered…and outgunned.  
A bullet bit his thigh. He screamed in pain thrusting his staff through the next two Tediz. Weakly he got to his feet.  
Ricy continued working at the terminal, casting fleeting glances at RedStorm. RedStorm was no longer moving. He merely stood in one place, barring the doorway…  
"RICY!?"  
"Almost done!"  
Sweat dripped onto the keyboard as yet another red X flashed across the screen…  
***!BLAM!***  
"RED!"  
RedStorm spun round from the force of the bullet. He hit the floor.  
Ricy screamed drawing his MP5. He fired into the console. The Tediz trampled over RedStorm quickly surrounding Ricy.  
"Please Red…tell me you wore a Kevlar…" Ricy thought before he leapt into the air and flew out of the security room with bullets nipping at his heels…_  
  
Squeaky tossed FlatFeet his radio.  
"Quick! Try and translate that! I caught their frequency!"  
"Uhh…it's been a while…"  
Panicked Tediz voices were heard over the radio along with the sound of many, many bullets…  
"_All available units…_" FlatFeet began, "_Back up… HOLY! HE JUST STOLE A TANK!!_"A more authoritative Tediz voice replied. "_How many soldiers are attacking?_" FlatFeet stopped.  
"Well? What was the answer?"  
FlatFeet frowned.  
"_One._"  
  
"HOW COME NO ONE WANTS TO PLAY WITH ME!?!?! COME ON YA LITTLE BASTARDS!!! EAT LEAD DEATH!!!"  
Pyst had commandeered a tank he had found in the hangar and was using it against the numerous Tediz forces.  
The Tediz broadcasting over the radio to his C.O. ducked as bullets tore the space above his head to bits.  
"_We need backup! Sir! This guy's a ****ing psycho! He's killing everyone and then shooting the corpses for fun!_ _HOLY-"_  
Pyst ran over the distracted Tediz with the tank, laughing manically all the time.  
  
Dark, CoolGuy and Stealth were taking care of the grunts sent to check out why the elevator wasn't working.  
Stealth passed his blade under his shoulder, ramming it through one Tediz, before bringing it up front and slashing another in front of him.  
"Well," he stated, "At least Pyst is doing O.K. for himself."  
CoolGuy rabbit-punched an opponent. He looked at Dark.  
Dark flicked his combat knife into an opponent's skull.  
"Goddamn psycho… Next time let's leave him back at base."  
  
Chael came to a fork in the base's winding hallways.  
"Which way to the hangar?"  
Explosions were heard from the left tunnel.  
"Pyst! I knew that ass would blow our entrance…" He quickly switched to his explosives. "Let's blow **** up…"  
  
"Talk about following the yellow bricked road…"  
Well, not exactly bricked but the long labyrinth-like hallways were painted with yellow Tediz ooze. Mon stopped when he had first seen the dead bodies. They were horribly maimed and brutally killed. No one was left alive. Whoever the killer was, was a very thorough and very quick cold-blooded murderer.  
"Dark...." he sighed. The best way to find one of his comrades was to follow the seemingly never-ending trail of bodies…  
DEATH! HATRED! BLOOD! WAR! DESPAIR! SUFFERING! AGONY!  
But enough about Mon's 'private itch' and his sudden thought of hatred for that one cashier at the pharmacy who had ripped him off…  
  
"How're you holding up Oreos?" Deja asked. She carefully made her way round the outside perimeter, keeping an eye on things from the outside of the base…making sure no one got on…or out…  
*I don't know Deja* came Oreos' reply. He had squeezed his way into the ventilation system, following Blaze's direction. After a pause to check team status he had entered.  
*It's bad. Eric's a P.O.W. and our stealthy entrance is gone… The team's scattered…*  
"It'll hold Oreos. It always does." Out of the corner of her eye she saw a flash of white making its way through the jungle. She began to trek after Ricy.  
*I hope you're right Deja…I hope you're right*


	4. In the heat of the Night

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N Well, happy holidays, merry Christmas and happy New Year! Despite being slightly swamped with work and some personal issues, I think the Christmas break will allow for at least one part of the Saga to finish. We're having a bit of a problem with finding archived material that can be made into fan fiction…but I'm sure we'll find a way round that little hole… There are still many plot-falls to fill and many loose ends that need to be tied. The Platoon isn't going anywhere for a while folks… Heh…you're stuck with us whether you like it or not…)  
  
Chapter 4: In the heat of the Night

  
Blaze's mouth was parched; his hands were sweaty and blistered at once. He'd kill for a glass of water…heck...he'd kill just to break the monotony… His hands were raw, not really burning but still feeling scalded all the same. His heart lifted at the sight of an exit up ahead. He quickly scurried forward and gazed through the diagonal grating.  
He had most certainly reached the Laboratory section. A few Tediz in lab coats went quietly about their work as Blaze peeped out through the vent shaft. He was positioned up the back of the lab. As quietly as he could he lifted the grating out of place and cautiously lowered himself into BioLab A. He hit the floor and rolled underneath a desk.  
Blaze screwed a silencer onto his 9mm pistol. He had spotted three Tediz.  
A pair of brown feet was moving towards the desk he was under. Moving at top speed Blaze was in front of the Tediz in a blink of an eye. The Tediz gasped as Blaze shot it quietly in the chest. He ran to the remaining two targets that hadn't noticed his arrival.  
Blaze fired at one's head point blank before ruthlessly turning to the other and firing again.  
The lab was clear.  
  
"You know what? **** that."  
***BLAM* *BLAM* *BLAM***  
_*ding!*  
_Dark holstered his pistol. Dark, Stealth and CoolGuy stared blankly at Blaze.  
"Well," Blaze asked, "What took you so long?"  
"So long?!" CoolGuy laughed, "How'd you get there so fast?" Blaze wiped his sweaty brow.  
"Got any water with you?"  
Stealth offered Blaze his canteen. The Hedgehog drank it quickly.  
"What's going on here?" Stealth asked as soon as Blaze had caught his breath.  
"It's the fist lab, BioLab A…nothing too important being done here… What we want is down that door." He pointed to another code-protected steel door with a large "B" on it.  
The four of them moved towards it. Blaze reached into his pack and brought out a decoder. Within a minute the door was opened and the group moved deeper into the lab's dark secrets…  
  
The door to Eric Cartman's cell slid open. Cartman's eyes barely opened…  
Electric nodes had been taped to his temples and they were using shock therapy to subdue him…to break him down and get the information they needed. And that was the 'mild' treatment…it was going to get worse…  
"What did we say your name was again?"  
"**** off…" Cartman gasped.  
"That's not very nice… I think we'll up the voltage for that one…"  
"Wait!" Cartman croaked. He paused.  
"Yes?" the Tediz asked.  
"Tell me yours and I'll tell you mine…"  
"Quid pro quo?"  
"Exactly."  
"Ok…I'm Tediz #977. I come from a batch of smarter, more advanced Tediz… You might recognize the traitor, #987…what do you call him? WWW?"  
"You're…related to WWW?"  
"From the same batch; but enough about me. How about you?"  
Cartman screamed in agony as Tediz #977 spun the torture knob.  
  
"Pyst! Hold your fire!" Cheal screamed, "It's us!"  
"GET OUTTA THE WAY!"  
Chael flung himself through the air as a tank shell flew past him, collapsing the tunnel behind him.  
"What the hell are you doing?!"  
"I thought there was someone behind you!"  
"Idiot!"  
"Lame ass!"  
"Are we missing something here?" Squeaky asked. Chael and Pyst turned to face FlatFeet and Squeaky.  
"Ladies, we can settle this another time…for now…" FlatFeet waved a paw in the direction of freshly arrived Tediz, "We've got work to do."  
  
Ricy fell beak-first into the grass.   
"What the ****?!"  
He felt a boot against his neck and a berretta pressed against his temple. Harsh Tediz was spoken.  
Ricy struggled to free himself, but a strong arm kept his one hand down and the other pinned under his chest. He felt the pistol being pressed against his posterior. His eyes went wide.  
"Tediz ****!" he roared.  
Amidst all the Tediz gibberish he made out his name.  
"How do you know my name?!" he demanded.  
"Dunno…maybe cause I'm in your Platoon."  
Deja, laughing long and hard, let Ricy off the ground.  
"What the hell?! I didn't know you could speak Tediz!"   
Deja playfully smacked Ricy on the back of the head.  
"There's a lot you don't know partner."  
"Damn Deja," Ricy whined, "you're a real ***** yunno?"  
Deja casually leaned on Ricy's shoulder.  
"I'd do anything to see that look on your face…heh…priceless…"  
Ricy did not seem to be enjoying Deja's jest at his expence.  
"C'mon Ricy…lighten up a little. I was bored being on perimeter guard…and…" She stopped in mid-sentence. "What happened?"  
"It's Red…RedStorm's down."  
"What?!"  
"Shut up!"  
"Huh? Ricy, tell me everythi-"  
"No, seriously, be quiet and listen…"  
  
*_…_*  
  
"False alarm…" Deja sighed.  
She felt the barrel of a Tediz standard field rifle pressed against her head. A second Tediz pinned Ricy's arms behind his back.  
"We're in the **** now Deja," Ricy moped.  
"And it's all your fault!" she snapped, "You should have never let your guard down and let us be captured like rabbits…like this!"   
"My fault?! How is this my fault?! You started this by coming an-"  
Ricy and Deja lashed out at each other as their Tediz captors tried to control them both. Deja felt the Tediz move its paw out from her arm and using this to her advantage she elbowed it in the ribs and twisted it round into a head-lock, snapped its ankle in two places. Ricy used this moment of violence to break free of his own Tediz and use his three-clawed hand to give it a deadly uppercut to the belly.  
The two Tediz writhed helplessly on the floor. Deja drew her pistol and finished them both.  
"Good job," she whispered, "and good acting. Nice idea to distract them with our own argument…right?"  
"Wait we we're…I mean…uh….never mind…"  
  
Three Tediz and a C.O. stepped into Lab A, to find it in ruins.  
"_****, the boss isn't gonna like this,_" one of the grunts babbled.  
"_Forget it. This place is useless to us now. Just get the files and let's get outta here._"  
One of the Tediz walked to a computer on a desk and swept off the shattered glass. While he was typing at the computer, and putting a floppy in, the other Tediz were walking around, aimlessly.  
Agent Oreos slowly lowered himself from the ceiling to the clueless Tediz. He armed his weapon.  
"Hey, you guys suck.... at guarding..."  
The 3 patrolling Tediz looked up, and were greeted by a bullet from a Falcon 2. The one at the computer did not move.   
"_You, at the computer,_" Oreos said in perfect Tediz, "_what are you doing?_"  
"_None of your business._"  
The Tediz pushed the computer off its desk, destroying it and whatever documents where being downloaded. Oreos swore.  
"Hey, I could've used that!"  
  
***Bang!***  
  
"Crap. James Bond would've been able to get the disk... why couldn't I? Stupid little Tediz... and 'you guys suck at guarding', damn, I gotta find better material. Gotta watch some more Bond movies after this mission is over..." he flipped to the ground and punched the button on the door decoder to enter BioLab B.  
  
_Breathe.  
Breathe damn it!  
………  
**Wake up RedStorm.**_  
RedStorm gratefully sucked in a mouthful of oxygen. He was in a holding cell of sorts, flat on his back on a wooden bench. He gingerly pressed the spot on his chest where the AR fire had spun him round like a top. He fished around in the bullet hole until he reached his bulletproof vest. He pulled out the flattened bullet. RedStorm rubbed his eyes with exhaustion.  
There were no windows in his cell…he was deep within the complex's interior. Giant speakers were stationed on each side of the room and there were multiple T.V. screens in front of him. He tried to sit up and found all he could do was move his hands. His feet were in cuffs attached to the bench whilst his hands were in loose shackles…  
One of the T.V. screens flickered on. It was Tediz #977.  
"Hello! I hope you enjoy the show…we'll talk about it…afterwards… Good luck."  
And with that the rest of the T.V. screens flickered on, and the dual speakers began blaring…  
  
Mon was walking towards the hangar, following the sound of the numerous explosions and the trail of dead bodies. He turned a corner and did a quick double take behind an ammunition crate as three Tediz went bowling past. They were speaking to each other as if their lives depended on it… Mon decided to follow them at a distance.  
"_Is this it?_" one bellowed, "_Are we all that's left?_"  
"_That ****ing psycho gunned us all down!_"  
"_Who are we kidding we don't stand a chance…_"  
"_We've still got one card to play!_"  
"_You don't mean-_"  
"_Yes! Yes I do!_"  
  
The Pyst's manic laughter rang down the hallway…  
"Yoo-hoo?! Where aaaaaare you?!"  
The Tediz began to run faster.


	5. Outbreak

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N Well, like most other times I set deadlines in my life, procrastination, tiredness and a heavy workload have lead to me not completing a project when I said I would. This displeases me greatly, so on this Saturday night I'm going to at least try and get one more chapter on the stack…one more log in the fire…before I enter an intense exam schedule that I will be completely swamped in before I can write again. In this chapter numerous exciting events happen and devious plot turns occur. I'd like to give credit to Pyst and FlatFeet, whom without their brilliant strokes of good story at the time, none of any of the consequent events would have occurred. I salute you both.)  
  
Chapter 5: Outbreak  
  
The three remaining Tediz burst into the secret underground laboratory area, far from the main R&D that Chemical Agent X was stored in. Nothing was in sight as they continued down the dimly light corridors. At long last, exhausted, they reached a sealed metal door. On the door a giant rust-red character is painted.  
It is the Omega.   
The Tediz that had the idea punched a code into the access panel and the door slid open.   
The room was empty. There was a single light; the rest of the room was swallowed in darkness. The intense beam highlighted a single computer on a simple desk. Wires and sensors ran out of the computer and attached themselves to a thin glass canister of peculiar shape. It appeared to be ever so slowly filling with a green gel-like substance. The computer screen was blank, save for a percentage read-out.  
**_99%_**

  
The Tediz gazed at the canister in a mix of fear and awe.   
"_This is it..._"  
"_The Omega project..._" the other gasped. The third was not as excited as the other two.  
"_Fools. It's not ready yet! The Commander will have our heads on a stick! Plus, there's no telling how unstable it is!_"  
"_It's at 99%!_" was the objection.  
"_This is the most powerful biological weapon in the world. 1% could unleash hell._"  
"_What could possibly go wrong?_" the leading Tediz asked.  
"Hey guys! Miss me?!"  
The Tediz turned and gasped at the sight of a bloodstained and bullet-loaded Pyst. Pyst spied the green canister connected to the PC.  
"Thanks guys! I promise I won't let that bad boy go to waste!"  
  
"_You were saying?_"  
"G'bye!"  
  
***_RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT*_**  
  
"Heh heh. Poor stupid bastards…now…where we're we?" he asked as he reached out and wrenched the canister from its place. He laughed tossing the canister in the air triumphantly.  
  
Time slowed down. In hindsight this was the biggest error any 99ner had ever made.  
The screen flashed red, warning that 1% of the substance had not been completed…had not been balanced…  
Had not been tamed.  
The gel glowed electric green, pulsing as if it had a life of its own…as if it could sense that this was its chance to escape its glass prison.  
  
It slipped past Pyst's fingers and shattered against the floor._  
"Aw, crap!" Pyst swore, running out of the lab and ordering the doors to shut. He breathed a sight of relief.  
"That was close... At least the Omega thingy is contained..." He shrugged it off and ran to search for any Tediz he might have missed.  
  
The green substance spread across the floor, thinning out into a large pool. Slowly it began breaking up into smaller puddles. Every single puddle glowed at the same pulse-like pace as the centre…as the nucleus.  
The nucleus rose and fell, as if issuing a command of some sort.  
Quickly the other puddles spread across the room, vanishing into the rest of the building through the most incredible places. Three samples of the Omega virus, excluding the nucleus remained. These made their way over to the fallen Tediz and sunk deep into their flesh…  
The wounds healed. The Tediz muscles doubled…tripled in size. Their shoulders grew broader, their chest wider…their minds smaller…  
  
They are living monsters, capable of twisting steel in their paws. They have no need for weapons. They live on one thought alone.  
**Kill**.  
  
All three bears rose groggily to their feet.  
The Komiz had returned.  
  
"Watch where you're going bub!"  
"Pyst?"  
"Chael?"  
"What the hell were you doing? I tried to find you and all I came across was a giant mess of Tediz bodies from the hanger to the armoury. Can't you save some for the rest of us?" Chael half-grinned.  
"Nope."  
"What's down there?"  
"Some secret lab… There was some Omega glowing liquid stuff down there. We don't have to worry about it."  
"Omega?"  
"You know about it?"  
"It just sounds familiar. I must have stolen files about it a long time ago…"  
"Forget about it. It's been taken care of. Let's go."  
  
Ricy and Deja were heading north, securing an alternate escape route as per Oreos' instructions. They told him about RedStorm. He had sworn at the time.  
The two made their way through thick foliage, Deja using a nine-inch knife to hack through the bush. They reached a tiny clearing and Deja paused to wait for Ricy.  
She fell to her knees as a bone-crushing blow smacked her spine.  
Ricy was thrown into the clearing as a hideously grotesque but incredibly muscular Tediz pinned him to the ground. The second assailant held Deja's head in its paws ready to crush her skull like an egg.  
The Tediz pinning Ricy to the ground growled. Deja got the message.  
She emptied her pockets of 4 grenades, knuckle-spikes, a serrated throwing knife and placed a ZMG 9mm and her grenade launcher on the ground, leaving only a Walther PPK in her back pocket. The Komiz holding Ricy pointed at Deja. The Komiz holding her squeezed her head tightly.  
**_"Ledear?"_** it hissed.  
"I'll tell you nothing!" Ricy yelled. The vice-like grip on Deja's head tightened.  
**_"Omega?"_**  
"I don't even know what that is!"  
Deja cried out in pain.  
"No! I'm telling you," Ricy pleaded, "I don't know!"  
"Ricy, don't tell them anything-" Deja gasped before being cut off by a tighter squeeze.  
**_"Ledear?! Omega?!"_**   
"I DON'T KNOW!!"  
Deja lay completely still.  
The Komiz roared with frustration and nodded at the Komiz holding Deja.  
"NO!" Ricy cried.  
  
It scooped Deja's knife off the ground and rammed it into her back. She slumped to the ground.  
"**Déjà!**" Ricy cried.  
  
Ricy's subjugator grabbed his chin, ready to snap his neck. Ricy shut his eyes, expecting naught but the inevitable.  
  
***!BLAM!***  
  
Deja's Walther fell to the ground, her will shattered.  
The Komiz holding Ricy stumbled backwards merely stunned despite the obvious headshot.  
Ricy grabbed Deja's grenade launcher and fired it into the gaping maw above him. Yellow-blood rained down as the Komiz head blew apart under the suppressed impact. Ricy turned and fired at the other Komiz, sending it soaring into the plant life.  
Ricy scrambled to Deja's side, taking her furry paw in his clawed hand.  
" You can't leave D. You can't go…I'll get help…"  
He pulled out his radio.  
  
RedStorm was screaming with madness. The images of cute and cuddly cartoons were broadcasted at an insane rate and in schizophrenic colour palettes on televisions all over the room. His ears bled where the distorted songs of a certain King of Pop had smote them with their intense decibel level. He struggled against his chains, seeking an end to the madness…to the insanity! It was inhuman! Beat him…break him…but not this!  
Saliva doused his shirt where he had spat it out in his mad fits of epilepsy.  
Tediz #977 closed the video link.  
"And we've got a whole more of that were it came from…" he told Eric Cartman.  
Cartman's gaze was blurry, like he was staring at a blank wall. His skin was burnt bright red where electricity had seared through it again…and again…and again… He couldn't focus any more…but he still withheld his answers. It was a like putting up a single sandbag to stop a flood.  
He was breaking.  
"So Eric. Where's Sarge? Where's he gone to?"  
Cartman rolled his tongue round his mouth. It felt like sandpaper.  
"W-water…"  
"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you thirsty?" Tediz #977 snapped his fingers. Two Tediz walked in. The first walked up to #977 and whispered in his ear. The words 'Omega' were distinctly heard. #977's eyes went wide.  
"_I've still got work to do here_," he said in Tediz. "_The situation will be taken care of. As for now, our prisoner thirsts_," he snarled, "_give him something to drink_."  
Moments later one Tediz held Cartman's arms bound as the other poured petrol down Cartman's gullet. Tediz #977 watch Cartman struggle and scream with a sinister grin across his face.  
  
Chael and Pyst ran down the corridor. Suddenly the wall in front of them glowed red and then proceeded to melt. Tediz screams could be heard coming in through the gap.  
A four-foot flamethrower-totting Squirrel walked through. He flipped his welding mask up.  
"Wassap?!" Squeaky asked.  
"Were those Tediz?" Chael asks.  
"Yup."  
"Damn! I missed some," Pyst growls.  
Behind them the door to the Omega's lab blew open. The three Komiz stood there in full battle fever.  
"You took care of it, huh Pyst?" Chael groaned.  
  
FlatFeet hopped off of the tank turret in the hanger and gazed at the mountain of corpses with a smile on his face.  
"Ahh…the good old days…" he sighed.  
Hundreds of green droplets swarmed out of cracks in the walls and seeped into every Tediz body that lay in the hangar. FlatFeet gazed in horror as the resurrection process began…  
Quickly he climbed back onto the tank as hundreds of Komiz rose from the grave. He fired every last bullet left in the turret and to his greater alarm and dismay, found the Komiz unaffected. They marched towards the tank menacingly.  
Panicking FlatFeet pulled the hatch down and cowered in the safety of the tank.  
***!SLAM!*** ***!SLAM!*** ***!SLAM!*** ***!SLAM!***  
The walls around him began to weaken.   
FlatFeet's heart raced at a thousand miles an hour. Sweat dripped off his forehead in buckets, but he wasn't hot. This was the cold sweat of fear.  
Very soon a brown paw poked through the steel and many more started to pull it back.  
He was going to die. He'd be torn to pieces, limb-by-limb. He checked the ammo on his sidearm. He had one bullet left.  
A giant hole now stood between him and a hundred murderous beasts. A deathly silence fell.  
FlatFeet trembled. A tear rolled down his cheek. The thought of his wife raced through his mind.  
"_**** this ****…_" he whispered, and shot himself in the head._


	6. Rage unleashed

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N I've gotten a spare hour I didn't count on and in this time I'm going to try and add another notch to my typewrite…figuratively speaking. The first Act of the FlatFeet Saga is coming to an end, most probably not in this chapter, but not much more than an extra one. Time is tight, like I had stated previously, and I'm juggling multiple timetables and schedules right now. I'm trying my best to narrate this 99th tale to you and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as we did living it.)  
  
Chapter 6: Rage unleashed  
  
The nucleus flashed green with excitement. It sensed a great mind…it sensed intelligence… It was eager to learn.  
It raced through the path of Komiz feet, into the tank and sunk deep into the still body of Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans. It smothered him in it and the reincarnation process began…  
FlatFeet's muscles tripled, his shirt tearing as massive, bulging, powerful flesh and bone forced its way out. His hands were as large as sledgehammers, each arm as thick as a telephone pole. His chest was broad and inflated. Muscles rippled up and down his torso and into his legs. His shoulders hunched low as FlatFeet's still face became animated once more. An expression of pure animal rage was on his face. His eyes turned blood-shot as his glasses fell to the ground, shattering. Of the really FlatFeet nothing remained save for his combat pants. He snorted and looked at the Komiz army.  
FlatFeet's great mind shattered like a pane of glass until but one though ran constantly through his head:  
**_Revenge_**.  
  
Stealth was not Mon's area of expertise. Hiding in a crate filled with supplies was not exactly the best tactic, but it was the only thing he could think off.  
The trail of bodies he had been following had risen and transformer into something grotesque. He heard slow, padded footsteps outside his crate. With his radio down and ammunition low escape was a near impossibility. His best choice was to bunker down till he had a break to run for it.  
He shifted ever so quietly to get in a more comfortable position... "Stress," he thought, "is bad for the heart. Maybe if I just relax and take a few deep breaths I can…"

  
_* Ricy scrambled to Deja's side, taking her furry paw in his clawed hand.  
" You can't leave D. You can't go…I'll get help…"  
He pulled out his radio.*_

  
Mon snapped upright. Something was wrong. He could sense it. He was needed. Dieing.  
He quietly opened the crate and peeped over the edge, clutching his First-Aid kit in his paw. He would have to take the risk.  
  
Dark's radio fizzled. He heard Ricy's voice, but they were deep inside the complex. He could barely make anything out. Ricy needed help. He turned and ran, his black trench coat flowing like dark water behind him.  
He saw a hall filled with what looked like Tediz.  
"Hullo there…" Dark smiled, "Who're you?"  
The Panther unloaded M16 rounds into the hallway. Komiz fell to the ground, squirming in their blood. When the clip ran out, they still moved towards him…wanting…needing his blood. They craved it. The Panther couldn't help but grin at this latest challenge.  
"Mother ****ers…" he grin toothily.  
He threw the M16 aside, and pulled out his double 9mm pistols. He ran at the Komiz, firing. Bullets slammed into the abominable creatures, sending them crashing down. He almost slipped on their blood, but he quickly regained his balance.   
The Panther made his way out of the complex, the Komiz still trying to slowly drag their selves after him…  
As he made it out he saw Mon running. He followed, lurking in the shadows. He was not seen. He followed Mon all the way to Ricy and Deja. Mon got to work as soon as he got there. Suddenly, a group of Komiz jumped out from the bushes.   
There was a small flash of silver, and Dark was out in front of them. His sword was drawn. He slashed the first, beheading it. The second died when the panther's sword penetrated its heart. Dark kept fighting, fending off the Komiz. He growled, slashing every enemy precisely and harshly. His blade was covered in blood by the time he was done. He stood on a pile of Komiz bodies, looking down at the other soldiers.  
One of the Komiz hands twitched. Dark lifted his sword up and rammed it through the pile.  
"Oreos leapt up and grabbed onto a pipe built along the ceiling as he heard rapid footsteps heading towards the lab exit. Using every ounce of strength he had in him he flattened himself along the ceiling.  
Dark ran underneath, moving like someone's life depended on it.  
By the time Oreos had dropped and turned Dark was gone. He grumbled slightly and ran after him, deciding to leave the lab to the others.  
Holding his Falcon 2 Scope with both hands, Oreos quickly ran back into the hallway and stopped.  
He knew Dark's technique, and despite him passing through that particular point only moments ago…this wasn't his style.  
After Dark's assault, someone had come and literally pulled the Komiz apart limb by limb, smearing their innards across the walls. Oreos had seen a lot in his years in service, but this chilled him to his bones.  
  
***_clank_***  
  
"Who's there?! Come out slowly with your hands up..." Oreos barked. Several grunting noises came round the corner. Oreos' lifted an eyebrow at what followed. It was massive, like a mix between a Squirrel, an Ape and Boar. Oreos recognised the stitched twin "F's" along the side of the pants. Nothing else.  
"What happened to you?" he asked in his deep, mellow voice, "Having a bad fur day?"  
Flatfeet slowly walked towards Oreos, veins popping out of his head with every step.  
"**_That…not…funny…_**"  
Flatfeet swung his massive fist and punched Oreos in the face, knocking Oreos half-way across the room to crash into a wall.  
"FlatFeet! What's wrong with you?!" Oreos asked. The wall had crumbled slightly with the impact. FlatFeet's strength was incredible.  
Komiz troops poured into the hallway. FlatFeet roared, his face flushed red. He launched himself at the Komiz, allowing Oreos to slip by unnoticed.   
"Thanks Flatfeet…don't worry, I'll find the cure for this thing."  
Oreos picked up a fallen K7 and ran off, leaving Flatfeet to deal with his inner demon.  
  
Blaze turned, just in time to see Dark sprint out of the hallway. He almost tried to stop him, but he assumed the Omega Project HQ had informed only him about had already been compromised, and if so, the rest of the platoon would need his help. He turned to CoolGuy and Stealth.  
"Listen up. HQ told me more about the chemical side of this mission." His tone of voice had changed. It was harsher…colder… Ruthless.  
"They told only you?" CoolGuy asked. Stealth looked at Blaze suspiciously.  
"Yes. It was too risky…"  
"Risky?" Stealth asked accusingly. "You held back vital information. You're not better than any double agent out there."  
"What did you call me?" Blaze hissed. Stealth came right up in front of Blaze.  
"You heard me… I'm reporting this to Oreos." He reached for his radio.  
"I think you'll find those a bit of a disappointment. They won't be working."  
Sure enough, they weren't.  
CoolGuy was quick to stay Stealth's hand.  
"We've got no choice but to listen to him."  
  
"Right now the Omega Project has been released. It's turned every dead Tediz into a deadlier Komiz troop. We didn't want Oreos to know this, or he may not have sent the troops. The Agency put me on board because I've been working the Defence sector for years now. I wasn't important military wise…but the government wanted my service. One of my main area of expertise is B.O.W.'s"  
"B.O.W.?" CoolGuy asked.  
"Bio Organic Weapons. Now listen, both of you. I've done things I'm not proud of before…I've made unspeakable things. But the Omega is purely a Tediz invention. It is the ultimate virus. It infects dead hosts with rage…so much rage that they reanimate. They do not sleep, eat or drink and think only to kill. It takes ten to twenty shots to the chest to even annoy these monsters. Chemical X is codenamed "Phazon". That was ours. It's a highly advanced chemical that results in more proficient weapons. We need to get that, now, if we want to survive… So follow me."  
He turned and left. Stealth looked at CoolGuy.  
"We got to Stealth…" he shrugged. Reluctantly they both followed.  
As they made their way deeper into the base the walls started to take on a strange tint. They began to look almost tissue-like. The floor did, too.   
"Eww…" CoolGuy said as he trampled in a pile of what, no one knew. The path winded and twisted, and their surroundings began to look more and more bizarre.  
"This is the fabled Bio-Lab X. Even I don't know what they've cooked up down here…"  
  
Inside the lab various chemical agents were being mixed electronically. Blaze made his way to a vat of an electric blue gel. He ran his fingers round the edge like it was a pot of gold.  
Suddenly with a slurping sound the hallway they had used to enter sealed up and formed a kind of scab, barring their exit.  
  
Blaze frowned.  
With another sucking sound the biological room opened up a hole in the floor. A giant mutated Komiz, like a fusion of six or seven of the beasts, rose out of the hole, each head shrieking in anger.  
CoolGuy pulled out his firearm and fired off six rounds. They appeared to merely agitate the beast. Blaze snatched his pistol out of his hand and to Stealth utmost surprise he held his sword as well.  
"Traitor!" he hissed.  
With one motion Blaze threw his own weapons in the Phazon vat along with Stealth and CoolGuy's.  
"What are you doing?!" CoolGuy asked.  
"Wait!"  
The beast sniffed the air. Realisation dawned on Stealth. The beast was blind.  
Using a pair of large tongs he drew his own weapon out of the vat.  
A black shell had encased it.  
In a mix of guttural roars and ear-splitting shrieks the beast leapt at Blaze. Blaze snarled and launched a stream of Phazon-encased bullets at the monster. It shrieked as the black fire pelted it again and again. With a final groan it fell back into its hole, dead.  
"Let's go," Blaze ordered, scooping up a large sample of Phazon and storing it safely in his pocket. He gave CoolGuy and Stealth their weapons back.  
"Last time I checked," Stealth hissed, "I was the ranking officer."  
Blaze shrugged. CoolGuy looked at Stealth.  
"Now let's go."


	7. Evac

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act One: Total War**

**  
**(A/N Hello everyone. The world goes on, much as it has done this past Age. I've managed to sneak another slot to write another chapter in. In this regard I may have finished the first Act of The FlatFeet Saga [or as Spellchecker likes to call it: the FlatFoot Saga] As you can see the plot has thickened mercilessly, what, with FlatFeet turning into a beast of war, Blaze playing the game with a foot in two camps and the Agency having hidden agendas… Forgive the long length of this chapter, but as it is the end of this Act it deserves a somewhat extended ending, don't you think? In other news, a nice 'timetable' of events has been drawn up, so the rest of the year's fic-load is planned and all that waits is for it to be knocked down. On a further note, our 'webmaster' trio are setting up a 99th website, which once completely online, shall be posted here for your viewing pleasure. By the way, "Psi" is that Greek letter right before Omega. It looks like a fork. And with that, long-winded, author's note, I bid you adieu.)  
  
Chapter 7: Evac.

  
"They won't die!" Pyst yelled. Squeaky fired another blast of flamethrower at the Komiz, but they still chased steadily after them.  
"Dammit! Now I remember the Omega project…" Chael swore, "It turns dead Tediz into Komiz…"  
"Ok," Squeaky said, "We've fought 'em before."  
"These Komiz make the old Komiz look like a helpless four year-old girl with no arms or legs."  
"You know," Pyst muttered as the Komiz roared at them, "I don't like the way they're looking at us."  
"Ok. Time to get the hell outta here." Chael and Pyst stopped firing and ran.  
"Wait guys!" Squeaky yelled, tightening the straps on his… "I took my jetpack instead of my backpack!"  
  
***_tsssssssss-SHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEWWWWWW!_***  
  
Squeaky scooped Pyst and Chael up in his arms, leaving the Komiz behind in a cloud of smoke and dust. They sped through the aisles at an insane pace…  
 "This…is…" Chael panted, his face turning green at the cheeks.  
"AWESOME!" Pyst crowed.  
  
FlatFeet watched Oreos run away. He roared in pain as three separate thoughts tore through his tortured mind.  
"**_He is a coward...he does not want the blood on your hands...kill everyone...for revenge..._**" "_No! Don't think that FlatFeet! He is trying to help you! Don't think about killing him, or any of the platoon!_" "What do you mean by 'revenge'? Revenge for what?"  
All these different thoughts raced in FlatFeet's mind, unfortunately, the second thought faded away to nothing, and the other two argued, with the first voice clearly overpowering all others…  
In an overwhelming flash he saw the face of his wife…now gone…  
It was quickly suppressed by his blood-red vision.  
He had to **_kill_**…**_kill and destroy…_**  
  
Mon ran down the hallway, his first-aid kit dangling in his arm. He suddenly stopped at a fork. The hair at the back of his neck rose as he heard gunfire, followed by Komiz screams. He took the 'fresher' smelling path, with a distinct feeling that someone was following him. But there was no time for weird feelings. Help was needed.  
He slid to his knees right beside Ricy. Ricy looked first at Deja and then at Mon.  
" Mon!" his face flooded with relief, "She's slipping! Hurry!"  
Mon's eyes grew dark. He began taking supplies out of his bag.  
The wound had cut both her right kidney and punctured her liver. Bile was starting to fill the bloodstream.  
Without warning Komiz troops flooded the area. As suddenly as the Komiz had arrived a shadow within shadows stepped out from behind Mon. He saw only flashes of silver until at last Dark had stopped moving. He rammed his sword through his pile of kills.  
"Take your time…" he rasped.  
Mon nodded clumsily and got back to work.  
He rolled Deja onto her front and lifted her top slightly to examine the wound. He winced at the sight. It wasn't pretty. The internal organs had suffered. He did what he could, gave her a square of chocolate to suck on, and then rested her against a tree trunk. He turned to look at the Black Panther and the White Hawk.  
"She'll be ok for now. But she won't last longer unless I can get her to an operating table."  
Dark nodded.  
"I'll do it." He grabbed his radio. "Oreos, we're calling for an emergency evac. unit to get us the **** outta here."  
  
*Oreos…* It was Stealth.  
"What?" Oreos hissed. He was descending ever so slowly into the room. A large fork-like character had been painted on the steel door. This was the antidote.  
_Psi._  
*It's Blaze…I can't talk now, but I'll tell you this: he was holding vital info from us. He sabotaged the radios so we couldn't contact you. I'm talking over a Tediz radio I found on a corpse. Blaze was in the Defence sector of the Agency working on B.O.W.'s and he knew about the virus on this island*  
Oreos nearly fell face first onto the floor. He quickly spun round and landed on his feet. As if the news of an emergency evac. wasn't bad enough.  
"What?!" he hissed.  
*…*  
"Stealth?"  
*_…_*  
"Stealth, this is Oreos…over…"  
Nothing. Static.  
"Damn it!" He snatched the antidote and ran.  
  
"Come on," Blaze said, his voice once again jovial and friendly. "We've got the big guns now. It's up to us to clear a path to the exit."  
"We should stop past the jail-cells," CoolGuy added. Stealth dropped what looked like a radio as Blaze turned to look at him. He came up to the other two.  
"Some one's bound to have been captured," Stealth finished, looking at Blaze menacingly.  
They drew their Phazon-encased weapons and ran.  
  
"There's the exit!"  
"I'm almost out of ammo!"  
"They STILL won't die!"  
"Run!"  
Chael and Squeaky ran out into the weakening darkness outside. Pyst continued firing round after round at the Komiz.  
"Pyst! What're you doing?!"  
"DIE MUTHA *******!"  
  
***_RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT*  
  
_**"C'mon Pyst!"  
"I'm right here you bastards! Come get me!"  
An enraged Komiz ripped a chunk of cement out of the wall.  
"Pyst!" Chael and Squeaky cried in unison.  
Pyst leapt, but too late. The concrete black smashed the ceiling, barricading the exit with rubble. Pyst looked wildly at the Komiz approaching him.  
"If I'm going down, I'm taking you with me!" he cackled, drawing a C4 bomb from his side. He laughed as he pressed the detonator…  
  
RedStorm had now been shackled upright. They had turned the T.V. screens and the stereo off. He was panting…exhausted…beat… The door to his cell opened wide. Pyst was dragged in, bloody and beaten.  
"Damn stupid detonator batteries! Hey…HEY PISS ANTS!" the Komiz shackled him next to RedStorm, "YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SHOOT ME ON THE DAMN SPOT!"  
The door slammed shut. RedStorm spoke, his words heavy and dripping, as if he couldn't hear or focus well…  
"Pyst…"   
"Red! They got you too!"  
"Listen! They're looking for this guy who set off some…Omega project or something…"  
Pyst was silent.  
"From the way they're acting about it, if they find him it means his balls are mince meat."  
"Uh-oh… But look, we've been trained to resist all forms of torture…at least I have…so… BRING ON THE PAIN!" Pyst screamed to no one. "WE LOVE THE PAIN!"  
"He doesn't represent me!" RedStorm gasped, "Can I be tortured separately?"  
The T.V. screens flickered on, followed by the voice of the moon walking individual on the various screens.  
"Whoops…" Pyst managed to whisper.  
  
Oreos found himself in a tower. The right side had a huge window, which gave whoever was up here a perfect view of the entire island, from the jungle to the beach.  
There weren't any Komiz or Tediz up here, so Oreos set his K7 Avenger down; it was on its last clip anyways. Security monitors took up most of the left side of the room, and Oreos walked over to check up on the team's status.  
On one screen, he could see CoolGuy, Stealth and Blaze running down a long hallway. They attacked two Komiz that guarded the cell door with what looked like black bullets. They ran into the room. CoolGuy quickly covered his ears as Stealth hacked Pyst and RedStorm's manacles and Blaze shot up various T.V. screens. Having done this they made their way through the base, CoolGuy, Stealth and Blaze shooting every Komiz in their path with their peculiar ammunition.  
"I'm never gonna get these guys."  
To the monitor on the left, there was a moving camera following Mon, as he, Dark and Ricy carried Deja, who looked like she got hit by a train, and then some. Oreos looked around. There was a big locker near the windows, and he shot off the lock. Inside was a sniper rifle, a few rounds left. He looked out the window again.  
The evacuation boat team was waiting for them at the beach. He scanned the track behind them. Further back Chael and Squeaky were also running in the directions of the boats. A fast-moving vehicle was kicking up a cloud of dust after them.  
"Mon, Dark, Ricy, Chael, Squeaky…you're being followed by what appears to be a SUV. Get over to those boats as fast as you can!"  
Oreos slung the sniper rifle over his shoulder and pulled out the long cord he had used numerous times throughout the evening. He quickly rigged up a support ring, tied his feet together, and leapt out of the top window of the base.  
  
As Squeaky and Chael approached Mon and the others the roar of the SUV grew louder.  
"Keep running!" Chael yelled, "The beach is just past that ridge!"  
  
*_tsseeeeeeeEEEEEEEWWWWWW!_*  
  
They all fell to the ground and the rocket flew harmlessly overhead. However in their delay the SUV had caught up with them.  
He leapt though the air, landing with his massive flat feet on the SUV's bonnet. The Platoon members looked on in horror as FlatFeet tore the SUV and all its occupants to pieces.  
The sound of stamping feet was heard. It was Oreos, leading Blaze, CoolGuy, Stealth, Pyst and RedStorm.  
"Go! Go! GO!"  
  
They reached the boats and clambered in one after another, FlatFeet's roars haunting them in the distance.  
Two blacker-than-black fighter jets screeched through the brightening sky.  
"What the **** are those!?" Oreos yelled. He turned to Blaze. "You better not have anything to do with this!"  
Explosions rocked the island as the jets dropped napalm bombs through the jungle. They circled around, ready to strike again.  
"Those are Agency planes!" Ricy yelled, his keen eye-sight and avionics specialty proving once again extremely useful.  
"Agency?" Oreos barked. He rounded on Blaze.  
"I don't know! They didn't tell me this! Look, I'm on your side here…I didn't do anything wrong."  
"Fine then…" Oreos turned to face the other evac. boats, "Let's get the hell outta here!"  
Another sector of the island went up in flames.   
  
"****!" Blaze swore as he looked at the surrounding boats, "What about FlatFeet…what about…Eric!"  
Oreos eyes widened. He looked back at the island. The boats had just started moving. He held his head in his hands.  
"I forgot…" he whispered, sitting down, his legs suddenly weak.  
Blaze was out of the boats and on dry land before Oreos had finished his sentence. He took two deep breaths and swallowed. He was going to tap into the characteristic that made his race unique amongst others.  
He ran. To all others he was nothing but a black and red streak. In his eyes the world was nothing but a blur of colour. Only a small patch in front of him, like a tunnel amidst the madness, let him see where he was going.  
He was inside the base…he dashed up a flight of steps and turned through the labyrinth-like corridors.  
  
The pilots flipped to their strongest weapon. They were ready to wipe the island and all its secrets off the face of the earth. The bomb hatch opened.  
  
"They've left you…" #977 snarled. Cartman didn't even have strength enough to speak back. "And since things have gotten…far more explosive…I too am leaving."  
The door burst down and a red and black streak poured in. #977 blinked.  
They were gone.  
  
The two planes flew overhead and dropped The Bombs. They flew towards the ground…and exploded on impact.  
  
Blaze slipped into his fastest and most exhausting gear. To Cartman who wasn't accustomed to high-speed vision, the world seemed to be moving at an incredibly slow pace.   
Not a sound could be heard.  
There was a flash of brilliant white and a pillar of blue flame climbed slowly into the air…  
It spread outwards engulfing the base…  
It spread _so slowly_ towards Blaze and Cartman.   
They had made it to the beach…  
The water rose behind them in slow motion as Blaze sped across the water, leaving a curved hallway where they had sliced over the seas surface…  
They landed in the boat.  
  
Blaze gasped. Breathless. Oreos blinked multiple times.  
"What th-" he stammered. Blaze took a deep breath.  
"I just stepped out for a few seconds…"  
  
Behind them the pillar of fire subsided. Sunlight crept quietly over the horizon. The boats sped off to safety and rest.  
  
Something stirred underneath a pile of rubble. A bloodstained fist burst through.  
FlatFeet was alive.  
And he wasn't happy. 


	8. Images that Haunt

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Two: Operation FlatFeet**

  
(A/N This is the official start of Act 2 of the FlatFeet Saga, Operation FlatFeet. Honestly I'd write more here, but it's 1:08 AM and frankly, I'm really tired. There are particularly violent descriptions below and I have to ask you to understand why I chose to describe these violent scenes. It is to show how this Omega virus can completely overwhelm a relatively 'good' individual and lead the infected carrier, through fits of rage and violence, to what can almost be described as primal evil. FlatFeet himself can not be responsible for the consequences that the virus has upon him, as his will is shattered under the control of the Omega itself.)  
  
Chapter 8: Images that Haunt

  
'Anthrax', proud owner of 'Anthrax's Bar', quietly wiped the bar down as he had done all these long years. Ever so softly he hummed an old tune he knew, a tune that spoke of war and victory; death and love; of times and an age he had long left in his past. The burly bartender swung his cleaning cloth over his shoulder and folded his arms. He watched with curiosity as he most valued, yet most destructive clientele, sat round numerous tables, beer bottles in hand; their loud talk and laughter becoming a constant droning hum of voices.  
  
Pyst slammed a downed shot glass against the bar's table, wiping his lips and gesturing to Deja's glass that she gripped between three fingers. Numerous empty bottles and glasses adorned the table. Deja smiled shrewdly and swallowed the burning alcohol in one gulp. She placed a hand on her hip then drew back gingerly. Her wounds still stung when probed.  CoolGuy slapped his head in dismay, passing $10 to both Pyst and Deja before walking over to the bar to ask for a beer on store credit.  
Cartman and RedStorm, recovering rapidly under Mon's supervision, sat quietly on a comfortable sofa up the back. They watched intently as Ricy and Blaze played an intense game of darts. Ricy's left eye shrunk as he aimed his telescopic vision and let the dart fly. He smiled as he nailed the double twenty. Blaze readied his shot, spreading his legs wide. Quickly he grabbed the dart by its tail and flung it, like a throwing knife, directly hitting the bull's-eye. Ricy raised a scaled finger skyward.  
Squeaky tossed an extra $20 bucks into the centre of the table. He looked at Chael, his face blank. Chael fanned his cards out again in one palm, checking his hand again, before calling Squeaky's bet. They turned to the Brazilian medic. Mon shook his head and placed his cards face down on the table. He began casually shuffling the deck, waiting to see which of the two would win the substantial amount of money that had gathered on the table. Squeaky grinned as he fanned out a straight flush. He raised his paws to scoop up the cash, but froze at the sight of a royal flush. Mon swished down some beer, smiling.  
Dark had spun a chair round and he leaned his chest against the backrest, a glass of a deep, fragrant red wine resting gently between his hands. His tail swished through the air casually as he relaxed. He was rarely ever relaxed, but he found that it was only among his fellows, after a mission, that he could stop and have a breather. He watched Stealth pace slowly round the pool table, trying to decide where to take the next shot. The Squirrel leaned over lining up all the variables, before sending the coloured balls in various directions. He passed the stick to Dark as his turn came up.  
  
Only Oreos refused to join in the after-mission celebrations. This had been the first mission that was placed specifically under his command. He had allowed for three captures to occur and had lost one of the Platoon's brightest young minds. He gazed at the muted television screen as its pale-blue light danced hypnotically across that corner of the bar. Idly he channel surfed until he came to a channel broadcasting the news.  
He reached for his black dinner jacket, his signature piece of attire, and reached inside the inner pocket.  
He still had it. _Psi_. The antidote.  
"I'm sorry Josh," he mumbled. He placed the vial back in his jacket and took another large swig out of a bottle of scotch. He paused in mid-drink and looked at the television screen in front of him. He quickly turned the sound of the T.V. up to maximum volume.  
"Quiet!" he yelled, and a rapid silence descended upon the bar. As the newscaster continued the story more and more of the 99ners gathered round the screen to hear the whole story.  
  
 "This is just in… The inhabitants of a small costal town, Dusty, outside of the Windy state, have all been brutally maimed and murdered… Ladies and gentlemen our reporter is on the scene. Due to the violent and gory nature of these images, we ask you to view at your own discretion, as the images may disturb some viewers. We now go, live, to Dusty…"  
  
The Red Squirrel reporter walked slowly through the deserted streets of Dusty, a handkerchief tied around his mouth and nose.  
"There is a powerful odour in the air…the whole city reeks of it…"  
Dark-red liquid stained the streets, roads and walls in various shapes and formations.  
"It is the smell of death, as it has overrun this poor costal town. From the blood that, literally, covers most of the city, we can deduce that the victims were either torn or smashed to pieces…"  
Small chunks of flesh were now noticeable as the reporter made his way to one particular household. A giant hole had been smashed through a typical suburban house, as if something had rammed through it to get at the inhabitants hiding inside.  
"I can only describe this…horror…as the work of a monster. There is not a soul survivor inside the whole city." The reporter struggled slightly as he clambered over the debris and into the darkness of the house. The camera shook as the camera man followed.  
  
"The stench inside here is overwhelming," the reporter gasped. The camera switched to night-shot mode, everything turning an eerie green colour.  
"It is a terrible sight to behold ladies and gentlemen. Whatever did this seemed to have torn the house apart until it found its victims and -" Suddenly the reporter screamed as he entered what may have been a bedroom. He ran back out, trembling.  
"You okay?" the cameraman asked. The reporter looked like he was going to be sick. The cameraman marched on, not paying attention to the reporter's pure shock.  
The camera shook violently as the cameraman jumped in surprise. In the brief seconds of clear footage two large-sized completely mauled bodies and two smaller ones, equally ravaged, were found.  
Suddenly both froze as they heard a noise from within the bedroom.  
  
"What was that?" the reporter asked. With a nerve-shattering roar, something large and bloodied leapt onto the reporter. The Squirrels screams were quickly silenced. The camera dropped to the ground showing two large flat feet chasing after the fleeing cameraman.  
There was another blood-curdling scream as what appeared to be whole chunks of flesh landed in front of the camera screen. Without warning the same large flat foot landed in front of the camera and the live feed died.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen," the newscaster trembled, her face as pale as a sheet, "I do not know what has just happened but…but… I-I…" she stammered on helplessly trying to control herself before she got out of her chair and ran off screen. Retching sounds could be heard before she quietly came back to her seat.  
"Those was our best investigative reporting team, two bright young boys always eager to delve and find the truth through their story… They are-are now d-dead…" She held her head in her hands as her voice filled with emotion. She looked behind the camera, looking at the other crew member's, equally shocked by what they had just seen.  
"I can't do this," she whispered before running off of the set.  
  
Oreos switched the television off.  
He turned to face the gathered Platoon.  
"Did you guys see that?"  
They all nodded.  
"There's no doubt about it," someone said, "that was FlatFeet."  
"He's alive…" Dark whispered.  
"He's alive and insane. He just killed two Squirrels with his bare hands," Oreos stated, rising from the chair. "He wants blood…and he's getting it."  
  
"Well, look on the bright side of it," Pyst said, "In addition to getting piss drunk we can also have a whole lot of fun and go an hunt down FlatFeet!"  
"He said it wrong," Oreos said dryly, "But he's got the right idea. We've got to round up FlatFeet."  
"Great!" Pyst laughed, running behind Anthrax's bar and grabbing the emergency shotguns hidden there.  
Chael held out a shiny ammo clip.  
"We'll need this Oreos. They're tranquillisers."  
"Why tranqs?" someone asked.  
"We can't kill FlatFeet now, can we?" He loaded the tranq clip into his own private side arm.  
Oreos nodded, then pulled out the antidote. He held the vial out for all to see.  
"No celebrating till FlatFeet gets a dose of this."  
Pyst ran over, handing out the guns as he went. He looked at the vial in Oreos' hand.  
"A toast? Heh heh! Don't mind if I do thanks!"  
He snatched the vial and gulped it down before anyone could react.  
"Now!" he armed the weapon, "Let's get FlatFeet!"  
"Pyst?" Chael asked sourly. Pyst turned. Chael fired a dart, knocking Pyst to the ground. Suddenly he climbed back to his feet.  
"I am so gonna kick you're -"  
Chael fired another seven darts into Pyst's chest.  
"…ass. Aw…hell…"  
He slumped to the ground. Blaze looked at Oreos.  
"What do we do now?" he asked. Oreos turned to Mon and Chael. Mon shrugged.  
"We have to wait for Pyst's system to…excrete the chemical…" Mon said disgusted. Chael nodded, an equal look of distaste on his face.  
"I can filter it out again."  
  
"Right. We've got to get a hunting party together as soon as possible. I'm not asking for any of you to come if you don't want to. FlatFeet's condition was my mistake, my responsibility. We've got to stop him, now that he's a bloodthirsty killing machine. By tomorrow, before he can do further harm, we'll launch the recovery operation…we'll launch Operation FlatFeet."


	9. The Hunt Is On

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Two: Operation FlatFeet**

  
(A/N Although they posted once in this part of the mission, or pasted in act one, many soldiers were considered 'off-duty' at the time of Operation FlatFeet, so I'm only going to give them a brief mention in the beginning so as to save myself the trouble of working their missing personalities into the plot. Sorry you guys, you know who you are, but I can't write from nothing. I need your posts to fuel it. If other people included you in their posts then I can kind of work it in, but other than that I've got nothing but straws to grab hold of. Sorry.)  
  
Chapter 9: The Hunt Is On  
  
"Alright, here's how we do it." Chael placed a map on the bar's table, the place they were using as a makeshift HQ in this unofficial, unauthorized by the Agency, rescue mission. Including Chael, seven 99ers had stayed to take up the hunt.  
  
Eric Cartman and RedStorm were deemed too liable to be injured, and their speedy recovery was opted over their presence in the Hunt. Blaze, with Stealth as the ambassador for the 99th, had returned to the Agency with the Phazon sample, the Phazon encased weapons and the tale of FlatFeet and the Omega to negotiate issues with Conker, Head of the Agency. CoolGuy and Corporal Twisted, who, much to his dismay, had conveniently slept through the whole 'Total War" fiasco, were sent a on a private quest by Oreos that involved flying to a remote mountain area halfway round the world. Deja was going to stay back at 'base' and keep track of things between the various scattered 99ers. She had started a nation-wide search to find those members that had survived the Disbanding…if any at all.  
  
"The latest FlatFeet sighting places him…here…" He indicated a large red X on the map. "Taking that into account he's heading either here, or here." Chael drew two circles around each city. "Seeing as the average ground speed of a Squirrel is 4 mph, ignoring any distraction by alcohol, bladder functions or big breasts. The best place to wait for him then, is here…and here…"  
Oreos took the lead of the conversation. He gazed into the faces of the other six. They all gazed back intensely save for Pyst, who was still shaking off the effect of the tranquilliser darts.  
"So it's as simple as we split into two teams and wait. We've got…" he armed the vintage hunting rifle by pulling the trigger hold forward in traditional Winchester style, "Enough of these and Chael's darts to take down two and a half dozen African Elephants and then some."  
"Are you sure they're strong enough?" Ricy asked. Dark smirked and Mon raised a bushy eyebrow.  
"Have you seen Pyst lately?" Chael replied.  
"Good point," Squeaky added. Pyst snorted, as he had dazed off again.  
"_I gotta stop drinking…_" he rasped, "_I've got a hang over the size of Texas. My memory is foggy… Did I drink too much Jack D. or did Chael shoot me up with tranq. darts?_"  
"Jack Daniels."  
"Jack Daniels."  
"Tranq da- Er… Jack Daniels."  
  
"Right soldiers. The others will cover us from here. Let's go."  
  
Dark sat in a wooden chair, his feet up on the table in front of him. He took a few of the Tranquilliser Darts he was given and loaded them up into his M4 Carbine Assault Rifle. Once that was loaded with the darts, he slid a clip of 9mm rounds into each of his .45 Pistols. Next, he loaded his PSG 1 with the rest of the Tranquilliser Darts. He stood up, sheathing his combat knife in his boot. The whole platoon turned to him as he slid his slender sword into its sheathe on his back. They were wondering why he had live rounds in his pistols.  
  
They all knew that Dark would never…intentionally…kill one of his fellow Platoon members. He looked at them and said, "I know what you're wondering... and I have live rounds because I'm not using a tranquiller on anything other than Flatfeet... There could be Tediz out there…and I'm not just tranquillising them."  
"Exactly," Oreos said nodding, "FlatFeet's hide is wanted by the state cops, the normal Army corps. and the Tediz."  
"They all want a piece of the action," Squeaky grinned. Ricy nodded in agreement.  
"FlatFeet is being hunted…whether he survives this hunt is in our hands. Let's move."

  
A flame-coloured figure walked into the Platoon's impromptu headquarters with a silver briefcase in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.  
"Hey guys! I'm back!"  
He froze as he gazed down the barrel of a shotgun. Deja walked up behind Anthrax.  
"Who the hell are you?" she asked. The tabby cat gulped nervously.  
"I guess I took too long a break… Err…It's me… Ajax. From operation 'Tediz Attack'? I came in with Dark…don't know if you quite remember…"  
Anthrax let the shotgun down.  
"Now I remember you!"  
"Great! Now, where have the guys gone?"  
"You're the **other** pyromaniac that nearly burned my bar down!"  
"You don't still remember that do you?" There was no reply. "Uhh…so…I'll help out around her then eh?"  
  
Oreos drove the minivan with Chael, Pyst and Squeaky in the back. They headed towards the mountainous sector of the country. Chael passed out palm-sized LCD screens.  
"Dual function - radio and map. Tracks any motion in a 500-metre radius. Should be a nifty little toy for you guys to play with. If the others find FlatFeet first, we haul ass over to the forest, and vice versa. This will be the best early warning system we can have."  
"Considering that FlatFeet in his current state tears bodies to pieces and twists steel, I'm sure that distance is enough for us to…get down on our knees and pray!" Squeaky barked. Pyst placed a hand on his shoulder.  
"Relax Squeaky. Certainty of death? Slim chances of success? Damn it!" he turned to Oreos, "Let's get there faster!"  
Oreos sighed.  
"Give me strength."  
  
Dark raced ahead of Mon and Ricy on his own jet-black motorcycle. Half an hour later he was inside the destination town. The Panther stared at what appeared to be a desolate city. Normally this sort of emptiness made Dark feel whole, but he had a mission, and it looked as though he was already too late. Sudden movement caught his attention.  
Three Squirrels in fatigues were rigging explosives around the buildings. A quick inspection gave Dark their potential magnitude. They were enough to level the city. He tapped one of the Squirrels on the shoulder. The youth spun round, surprised. He eyed the Panther with suspicion.  
"Relax kid," Dark snarled. He reached inside his trench coat to show his I.D. as a member of the corps. The Squirrel reacted by pointing a pistol in Dark's direction. Dark quickly snatched the pistol out of the Squirrels paw.  
"Hey! I'm on your si-"  
The other two Squirrels ran to the other's aid. Now Dark was getting slightly pissed. He pistol-whipped the first rendering him unconscious, before charging into one Squirrel and launching him at a wall. The third stared at the steaming Panther.  
"Who ordered this?" he asked.  
"T-The mayor…" the Squirrel stammered, "To set up and catch that monster…"  
"That **particular** monster happens to be a very good friend of mine," Dark growled, "And I will bury you six-feet under if you don't disarm these bombs immediately." His voice was soft and silky. He was dangerously ticked off.  
"But-"  
Dark fired in the air. The Squirrel quickly got to work. Dark snarled, waiting for Mon and Ricy.  
  
CoolGuy and Twisted had finally reached their destination. Twisted lowered the hood on his sweater and knocked quietly on the door to the monastery. A bald-headed feline opened the door.  
"Yes?"  
CoolGuy stated their purpose. The monk looked at the both.  
"This is a holy place. We do not want our community to be disturbed."  
"Don't worry padre," CoolGuy smirked, "We're just here to pick up something from the lost and found."  
"Lost?"  
"Yes," Twisted added, "And found."  
The monk shrugged and opened the door wide, allowing the two to enter. The monk pointed them in the direction of their inquiry and the two went quietly on their way.  
  
"That's how it is sir," Blaze reported. Conker nodded, turning to his most faithful aid, Major B.Addass.  
"What do you make of it Major?"  
The Major poured over a detailed fax that had just been sent.  
"We can't withdraw the army. People have seen the destruction this monster-"  
"FlatFeet," Stealth said sharply.  
"Evans has gone berserk. In my books he's a monster."  
"He's still a soldier in there!"  
"I'll see that later."  
Conker stepped between the two, breaking up the potential argument.  
"Look, the fact is that we can't withdraw the army, not with this much public attention. You've got to get FlatFeet under control. If he attacks one more city, I'll be forced to move my hand…"  
Stealth and Blaze nodded. The rest was in the Platoon's paws.  
  
*_56,072 bottles of beer on the wall  
56,072 bottles of beer!  
You take one down and you pass it around  
56,071 bottles of beer on the wall!_*  
  
Pyst and Squeaky droned on…and on…and on…  
What seemed like hours later Oreos, relieved, heard them sing:  
"No more bottles of beer on the wall!"  
"A million!" Squeaky crowed.  
  
*_1,000,000 bottles of beer on the wall  
1,000,000 bottles of beer!  
You take one down and you pass it around  
999,999 bottles of beer on the wall!_*  
  
"I hate you Squeaky…" Chael muttered.  
  
Deja slipped the communication headset on, with Ajax's laptop that he had brought in his suitcase as her telecom link. She picked up her first call.  
"Control."  
*Deja, it's Blaze. The army isn't withdrawing…and the Tediz have mobilized. Warn the others. They're not going to get any breaks.*  
"****," Ajax swore.  
*Who's that?*  
"Forget it," Deja said, "I need to tell the others your good news. Control out."  
  
At the foot of the mountains Chael and Oreos shot out of the van, Pyst and Squeaky singing about the last bottle of beer.  
They stared at the foreboding mountainous pass ahead of them. They slung trekking backpacks on.  
Oreos was familiar with this. It was part of his training as a double O. He looked at Pyst who yawned slightly, still fighting off the hangover. Squeaky seemed to be having trouble getting his safety gear in place.  
"Ever been mountain climbing before Sqeuaky?" Oreos asked.  
"Can't say that I have…"  
"Afraid you'll fall and die?"  
"Hey, I signed my life away when I joined the Platoon. Besides, this should be fun."  
A slight wind picked up as the four set off up the carefully carved path.  
"One hundred bottles o-"  
Chael looked sharply at Pyst. Pyst grinned sheepishly.  
"Only joking."__


	10. Lost and Found

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Two: Operation FlatFeet**

  
(A/N Woah. Been a while. Sorry about the lull, but I definitely needed a break. I had responsibilities and certain situations to deal with. However, I once again find myself desiring to tap into a creative stream, hopefully forcing out whatever's giving me writer's block. I apologize for the lack of 'meat' in the last chapter. It was one of those transitional pieces in the mission, where there isn't a lot of solid material to work with. Enough chitchat. Let's get down to work.)  
  
Chapter 10: Lost and Found  
  
Deja's earpiece cackled. Ajax picked it up.  
*Deja?* It was CoolGuy. Twisted could be heard in the background.  
"No, it's Ajax. Deja's taking a break. What's up?"  
*We have the package and are on the road home. Should be there in a few hours*  
"Roger that CoolGuy. I'll pass the message on."  
  
Dark lead Ricy and Mon through the forest. The noon sun shone through the leaf-green canopy, dying everything in a pale green light. The Hunter sniffed the air and his brow furrowed. He looked towards Mon who leaned his head sideways.  
"What is it?" Ricy asked. "Is it FlatFeet?" They kept their voices to soft, rushed, whispers. Dark shook his head.  
"If it was him there'd be more noise." The Panther's whiskers twitched nervously, sensing his surroundings. Some…thing…familiar was around here, somewhere… A rustle came from the bushes behind them. Ricy drew his custom firearm as Dark's sword slid silently out of its sheath. The rustling continued as a dark brown figure leapt out of the bushes.  
"What're you doing in _our_ forest?!" the Tediz near-shrieked. Ricy snorted and relaxed.  
"Holy…" Mon muttered, "Triple W! What the hell?"  
Indeed, it was Thomas "WWW" Warclat, looking worse for wear than the last time the Platoon had seen him before the Disbanding. Rips were visible in his stretchy cloth-like skin, tiny rips caused by the thorns on bushes, rips that had obviously been sown back together by hand. His face was covered in mud, and a bunch of matted leaves and mud was all that concealed his…dignity.  
"Damn boy!" Ricy gagged, "you stink!"  
"So this is where you disappeared to," Dark added, smirking.  
"WWW? What happened to you?" Mon asked. WWW looked madly over his shoulder.  
"Never mind that now…you must come with us… Yes! Follow us, they must! Come! Come quickly!" WWW vanished into the bushes. The others quickly followed.  
  
They had been climbing the mountain for hours, and yet they were still far from the top. They had reached a particularly sheer cliff-face that could not be circled. It was the fastest way to the mountain village at the top. They had no choice but to scale the stone precipice.  
Professional Special Ops. Agent 00-Oreos wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead. Chewing loudly on a piece of gum he hammered a support spike into the mountain's rocky crevices. He dug his spiked shoes into the mountainside. He threaded another cord through…  
***KHA! KHA!***  
With an ear-splitting cry an angry buzzard flew directly onto his backpack. Oreos flung his arm around him in defence. The rope swayed under their combined weight. With a loud screech the buzzard soared skywards. But Oreos' rope would not stop shaking. He looked up, frantic.   
The rope had been gnawed away by friction...it began splitting into tiny, broken threads, threads that would not hold his weight. He swore as he reached for the top of the cliff, so near, yet so far…  
His fingers grabbed the dusty edge as the rope snapped, snaking away below him.   
"Oreos!" Chael cried.   
"I'm okay! I'm okay!" Oreos replied.  
Squeaky F. Acore gazed on anxiously, 40 feet below. A vein was visible throbbing against Oreos' exposed arm.  
"Hold on soldier!" Pyst, the closest to Oreos, began climbing the cliff as fast as he could, but he was too far behind. Oreos tried raising his other arm, but found his first grip giving way.  
"Don't move!" Squeaky yelled, "It's crumbling!"  
"I-I can't hold on much longer!" Fragments of stone and dirt fell away from beneath Oreos' paw.  
"Yes you can! Hang on tight! I'm coming!" Pyst grunted with effort.  
"_Can't…_" Oreos whispered. The pull of gravity was far too much. He slowly closed his eyes.  
"Oreos!" Chael yelled, "**No!**"  
Oreos let go.  
  
"Come come! We've a home we do! Yes! Deep in a cave in the forest…it is safe there…the monster…the monster in the woods…won't…can't…find you… No, no he mustn't! We mustn't!" WWW raved. The others followed him into a dank and dark hole built mainly out of brambles and other pieces of driftwood. Scattered pieces of machinery lay on the ground, covered by blueprints and papers with detailed number readouts, written in binary and hexadecimal. It was obvious that out here, away from civilization, WWW had lost his mind. He rummaged through what appeared to be his personal belongings.  
"We're lucky we found you!" he said.  
"WWW, you've got to come with us…we'll help you…"  
"No…not yet! We must find it first…"  
"What?"  
"The box…that tells us where the monster is…"  
"Monster? You mean FlatFeet?" Mon said excitedly, "Do you know where he is?"  
"Yes! Yes we do!"  
He produced what looked like a homemade radio. He feverously turned it on and fiddled with the dials until he was, apparently, satisfied. The others leaned close to listen.  
  
*_We have just received word from a small forest hut's radio that this monster, that calls FlatFeet, is on rampage towards the forest town. This radio report confirms it…*  
_The radio crackled as the station switched to the transmission they had received. A Squirrel's voice came over the radio, in between bursts of static, clearly panicked.  
_*kkssssssshhh...Anyone? There's a ksssshhhhhhhh...onster, help, he's killed Bill kkkssssshhhhh ****, it's FlatFeeksssh, tell my wife I loved her big brea- kkkssssssssssssshhhh*   
_The announcer came on again.  
_*We'd like to tell our audience that the unfortunate man loved his wife's big breakfasts, yes that's it, breakfasts. The police have sent a large SWAT team down to intercept FlatFeet, but this radio signal confirms their failure*  
*ksssh HQ, we have a 10-kssh4 here, repeat, a 10-kssh4 here ksssssh*  
_The announcer piped up again_.  
*Now, I've talked with the police, and there are only two transmissions that end with a 4, 10-44, which means 'We are raping our spouses' or 10-64, which means 'Send the army, this thing's too strong'. They confirm it to be 10-64, so the army have been sent to the nearby forest settlements with all their personnel ordered to shoot on sight. That's all for the Flatfeet rampage…*  
  
_"Well then," Dark said mirthlessly, "Let's get moving."  
  
A dark grey paw shot out from the cliff's edge and grabbed Oreos by his collar. Quickly Oreos was dragged back onto solid ground.  
"You can thank me later." The voice was husky and came from deep within the diaphragm. Oreos smirked.  
"About bloody time."  
"Oreos!" the others called, "Who is it?"  
A mature and well-defined, semi-bearded face peered cautiously over the edge.  
"Sarge!" they yelled. He smiled back.  
"Get your asses up here…pronto!"  
Within moments all four soldiers had gathered around Sarge, each firing off a volley of questions. Sarge held up a hand for silence.  
"CoolGuy and Twisted came and found me…brought me to my senses."  
"Where are they now?" Pyst asked.  
"Heading to the town where FlatFeet's heading."  
"They found him?" Chael asked. Sarge nodded.  
"He's in the woods. We've gotta move. Fast."  
"How're we gonna do that?" Squeaky asked. Sarge smiled again.  
"I found…a ride…" He whistled and a jet-black helicopter soared above them. S.G.S. was painted in bold white letters.  
Samuel Graham Snickers – former light artillery expert and chopper pilot for the 99th Platoon.  
The chopper was soon hovering overhead. They climbed up the rope ladder, one by one, into Snicker's chopper. Pyst was last. Suddenly he heard a noise behind him. He spun round to come face to face with a giant grizzly bear.  
The grizzly bit Pyst in the leg, Pyst bit the grizzly in the paw.   
"YOU WANNA FIGHT!?! BRING IT!"  
Pyst and the grizzly rolled around fighting on the mountainside. They rolled off a cliff.   
"OH CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!" Pyst yelled.  
  
-In the helicopter-  
  
"Nice to see you guys again," Snickers said, speaking into his helmet mike. The other 99ers held their thumbs up.   
Good to see you too.  
"Where's Pyst?" he asked. Sarge looked round, his expression one of surprise, followed by realisation, followed by anger, followed by exasperation.  
"Hey guys, check it out! That grizzly is climbing the cliff!" Squeaky pointed.  
Sarge, Oreos, Chael, Squeaky and Snickers turned and looked out the window. The grizzly was climbing the mountain at a fast pace.   
"Wow! I don't think I ever seen a grizzly climb so fast!" Oreos yelled over the roar of the rotor blades.   
"Why would a bear climb a cliff so fast and recklessly anyway?" Chael asked.  
Suddenly Pyst came into view, chasing the bear up the cliff.  
"Well that would explain it."  
  
"Where you going bear!?! You wanna start a fight but won't finish it?! COME HERE LITTLE MAN!!!" Pyst crowed, cackling like a madman.  
The grizzly bear jumped, landing on Pyst.  
"**AAAAAAAAAHHHH!! ****, it's biting me! The ***** is biting me!! Get it off! ****!**"  
  
"Should we help him?" Squeaky asked. He turned to see Chael taping the whole episode on his video.  
"Nah. This week's World's Funniest Home Videos prize is $5000!"  
  
The bear bit Pyst in the leg. Pyst bit the bear in the neck.  
The bear slashed Pyst across the torso. Pyst punched the bear in the teeth.  
The bear swatted Pyst on the head.   
"YOW! Hey look! An eagle!"  
He pointed behind the bear. The bear turned round.  
Pyst kicked the bear in the groin.  
The bear fell to the ground groaning and holding his crotch.   
"I win!"  
The bear suddenly rose to its feet, upper cutting Pyst in the…   
"**ARRRG! OW! RIGHT IN THE MOMMY-DADDY BUTTON!**"  
  
"That 5 grand is mine!" Chael laughed.  
"Give me that loud speaker!" Sarge turned the megaphone on. "PYST! LEAVE THAT BEAR ALONE AND GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"  
"Aw hell! You got lucky bear!" Pyst groaned. He climbed up the rope ladder. Pyst stared daggers at Chael.  
"I want that tape Chael!" he growled.  
"What tape?"  
"Don't pretend you don't know! If I see that tape on America's funniest I'm gonna rip you a new arse"  
"Seriously, I don't have any tape... Holy ****, the bear's up again and wants another round!" Chael said, pointing behind Pyst. Pyst turned and Chael fired one of his tranquilliser rounds. Pyst was out like a light.  
The others couldn't help but chuckle.  
"Hey Snickers?" Chael asked, "Can you fly us by a mailbox or something? I need to send this tape…"  
"Roger that…" he laughed.


	11. Tightening the noose

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Two: Operation FlatFeet**

  
(A/N A longer chapter, as we near the end of the Second Act. I can't think of much else to say, as I believe this chapter's self explanatory, delicately trying to balance humour with action…or so I hope! Well, rather than waste your precious time reading an author's note that has absolutely no purpose of being…let's go straight to the second last chapter of the second instalment of the FlatFeet Saga)  
  
Chapter 11: Tightening the noose  
  
Dark had his arms folded neatly across his chest. Mon stood next to him, gazing up at the sky. With a soft flutter and a small gust of wind, Ricy landed in front of them. He stretched his wings before folding them behind his back. He shook his head.  
"I couldn't see anything."  
Dark snarled. He was getting fed up. WWW ran out of his hut, prancing wildly, a wooden bowl in his hands.   
"At last! AT LAST! In my secret lab I've finally found the antidote of Hepi...Hepitata...Hepitit...The funny named sickness thing!"  
"At least he's stopped referring to himself in the royal plural," Mon muttered.  
"Tryyyyyyy some..." WWW drawled, shoving the bowl close to Ricy's face. Ricy turned a few shades greener.  
"No…seriously, I uh...don't have Hepatitis A...All fine."   
"But you mussssst!" WWW crouched down and started eating. "Somebody's been a rockin'...a sleepin' in the shadows that shift in my forest...yessss..."  
Ricy leaned towards Mon and Dark.  
"I think all this time from civilisation short wired his brain or something..."  
"No **** Sherlock…"  
WWW jumped up excitedly and chattered.   
"Why! That's my Panther!" he pointed towards Dark, got up and grabbed Dark in a firm bear hug, "Why no gabble babble, Bobby? Bibble dibble dotty?"  
"Don't touch me."  
Their radios crackled into life. They recognized the voice on the other end at once.  
"Sarge…" said Ricy.  
*Attention all units! All units! Get your asses over to Woodchester, location…* Sarge rattled off the location in degrees, *Both the Squirrel Army and Tediz Air Force units are on their way to put FlatFeet to sleep…permanently! I wanted everyone there five minutes ago… Hustle!*  
The Panther turned from WWW and looked to the others. They looked back at him. He felt somewhat rejuvenated after seeing their faces and hearing their conversations. This wasn't the time for those kinds of things, though. They had to get to Woodchester and fast. He thought for a second and remembered something. Everyone looked at him as he unsheathed his sword and cut down a few bushes. They then saw what lay hidden behind it all. There was a line of jet-black motorcycles.   
"A little present I left myself a _long_ time ago…"  
Shooting WWW with a tranquilliser and securing him to the back of a bike, they revved up and sped off.  
  
Medical Officer Renato "The Reverend" Mon looked to his right as he sped towards their target location. He spied a large billboard.  
**_::Woodchester Home of the Lumberjacks::  
::_**_pop. 3200 people::  
_A giant FlatFeet sized hole had been ripped through the sign. Mon thought of the tiny, fragile cylinder with the tranquillising serum inside it. He took a deep breath and quickly made the sign of the cross.  
Even if Sarge hadn't given them the exact location of the city, they would have no problem locating it. The quiet forest retreat was aflame, a giant red tongue licking the smoke above it. The bikes screeched to a stop next to the others. Snickers had dropped them off via chopper, before flying off to get refuelled. With the Tediz Air Force on its way, Sarge had ordered air support. Further off State cops were cringing behind the overturned wreck that was their police car. They looked out towards the 'battle scene'.  
FlatFeet stood in the centre of all the destruction, roaring with primal rage. One unlucky officer managed to get a noose round his neck. FlatFeet yanked him close and flung him over his shoulder, as easy as if the Squirrel was a rag doll. Sarge surveyed the situation. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Chael positioned on a roof, sniper at the ready. Oreos was in charge of the main spearhead assault. They would surprise FlatFeet from the south, giving Chael time to shoot FlatFeet and leave him out for the count.  
It was all simple, effective. It would be over before the Squirrel or Tediz Army arrived.  
  
Chael lined up the shot. With the tape in the mail and his mind clear, he watched as Oreos and the others fired bullets that ricocheted harmlessly off of FlatFeet's tough hide. So far the state cops and Army units had stayed away from FlatFeet, but seeing the 99th take on the behemoth spurred their courage. Sarge saw them coming.  
"****," he swore, "Chael! Take the shot! **Now!**"  
Chael held his breath and squeezed the trigger.  
  
A brain lapse is when to many things happen unexpectedly and suddenly. Your brain blanks out for a second and tries to comprehend what is going on. This is what happened to most of the 99ers at that point in time.  
Chael, at the expense of a large chunk of FlatFeet's tendon, discovered that someone, most probably someone who wanted FlatFeet dead, had switched the ammunition. The 99ers were caught between the gathering Army, and the dark black jets that screeched overhead meant that the Tediz Air Force had arrived. The Tediz stared down at the gathering Squirrel forces. They had not expected them to be here. The Army stared at the wounded FlatFeet, the Tediz planes and the armed 99ers.   
FlatFeet suffered the most brain lapse. In all his pain and confusion, primal survival instincts kicked in, his main train of though being:   
"**WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! GET THE **** OUT OF HERE!**"  
Roaring in pain and confusion FlatFeet knuckle-walked into the nearby forest.  
"We've gotta split up!" Mon yelled. "I've got an antidote vial left…I'm going after FlatFeet! You guys stay here and keep everyone out of my way!" Mon turned to leave. Sarge grabbed his arm.  
"Doc!"  
"Yeah Sarge?"  
Sarge paused.  
"Take care."  
Mon nodded and ran, his white medical coat fluttering behind him as he vanished into the undergrowth.  
  
"All right boys! It's just us! You all heard the good Reverend…" Sarge spat, and pulled up a rectangular backpack he had brought with him. He unzipped it.  
There she was. Beautiful.  
M35 Heavy Duty Semi-Automatic Sawed Off Shotgun.  
"Nobody ****s with our Platoon!" he yelled. "Attack anyone who tries to go after FlatFeet. Knock out the Squirrels and eliminate Tediz hostiles."  
The Platoon broke up and ran in various directions.  
  
Sarge, Oreos and Pyst were running with their heads ducked.  
"How do we take on the Tediz Air Force with these pea-shooters?" Oreos yelled. The Tediz started dropping rows of explosives. A part of the woodland town blew up in a ball of fire.  
"That's what's gonna make this one hell of a ride!" Pyst crowed.  
Pyst loaded a fresh ammo belt into his M-249. He slung the rifle over his shoulder and pulled out a rocket launcher.   
"LET'S KICK SOME AIRBORNE TEDIZ ASS!!!"  
"Where'd that rocket launcher come from?" Oreos asked.   
"I had it in my pocket."   
"In your pocket... how?"  
"I dunno. The same way James Bond can store 50 different guns in his suit in Golden Eye 64? Now lets have less talking, and more, MINDLESS, MAYHEM!!!"  
  
FlatFeet ran through the forest. His mind was taken over by rage and bloodlust, but he was still as intelligent as he was before this happened. He was not running. He was formulating a sneak attack on the army.  
"**_Bastards…_**" FlatFeet's mind kept repeating.  
A Tediz jumped up in front of him. It rasped a threat before loading its rifle.   
"**_Fool..._**" FlatFeet said, the words guttural and enraged. He placed his hand on the Tediz chest, and drove his fist straight through. He roared.  
"**_Revenge…_**" he mouthed, taking off again.  
  
Sarge and the other members of the Platoon stood in the path of the Tediz Air Force. They watched as the Tediz planes flew right over their heads.  
"Well, that wasn't quite as climatic as thought it was gonna be," Ricy said.  
"So, uh, what do we do now?" Squeaky asked. Chael ran to rejoin the others, having spent the use of his sniping skills. WWW held Dark tightly round the arm, babbling incoherently. The Panther could stand it no longer. He spun round and smashed WWW in the head with his palm, then raised his leg in the air and cracked WWW in the jaw, sending him face-first into a pile of debris. The Tediz shakily got to his feet, the glassy look in his eyes now vanished.  
"What the hell was that for?!" he asked, finally brought back to his senses.  
"Shut up," Dark smirked, "I healed you."  
  
Two Apache Longbows flew out from behind the mountains and a large barrage of missiles was launched at the nearest Tediz planes. The planes crashed to the ground, Tediz emerging from the wreckage on fire.  
"SWEET!" Pyst yelled. He gunned down the Tediz and shot their corpses. Suddenly, the pilots of the Apaches radioed Sarge.  
"Hey Sarge. Did you miss us?" Snickers asked coolly. A second voice, far more feminine, added:  
"Did you boys think we were gonna let you have all the fun?"  
"Hello Dana," Sarge said. Deja's Apache gave a little dip, her way of waving, before turning round to chase after the other planes. Sarge got back to business. "All right, you two keep knocking those planes down! We'll take out an survivors and paratroopers!"  
"10-4 Sarge."  
The Platoon broke up again, continuing to keep people away from the Forest, and away from FlatFeet. Sarge's radio burst into life. It was Deja and Snickers. Sarge looked up. One of the T-18s had fired a missile at of the Apaches.  
  
*_Mayday! Mayday! I got a live wire on m' tail! Somebody, take 'er out! Snickers!*  
*No can do Deja! Repeat, negative! Can you shake it off?!*  
*Snickers you ***! It's friggen heat guided! Shoot the damn missile!*   
*I'm outta ammo! Two T-18s on my tail...I can't do anything!*   
*Gimme a gad-damned BREAK! There is no way I'm gonna out run this *****! Ground units! GIMME A ******* HAND!*  
  
_"Chael! Aim for the rocket!" Sarge barked. He whistled to Pyst and Pyst tossed Chael his rocket launcher.  
"Don't miss, we've only got one!" Oreos added, firing at the Tediz parachuting out of the sky.   
Chael nodded and took aim whilst the other three watch anxiously. He lined up his sights on the heat seeker. His finger tightened around the trigger. Sarge spotted a T-18 coming in low and hard at 9 o'clock.   
"INCOMING!!!"  
The T-18 opened up with its machine guns. The soldiers scrambled, yet Chael didn't flinch. He concentrated on his target amidst the chaos and opened fire. The rocket screamed towards the heat-seeker, now only inches from Deja's Apache…  
  
**-WHA-BOOM-  
**  
The rockets collided, Deja's chopper rushing to help Snickers with the remaining Bogeys.  
Oreos spotted the T-18 coming around for another strafe.  
"Aw ****! Not again!"  
  
*Thanks Chael. Here's a lil' thank you present. It's a bit shabby but it'll do...*  
A missile slammed into the back of the T-18, sending it ploughing through the ground, its tail ablaze. The four Squirrels leapt out of the way in the nick of time. Mounds of dirt flew through the air, covering Chael in a dark brown mud. He looked up. The Squirrels had finally given up on FlatFeet and were now turning to the Tediz. The Tediz were losing. Now all their hopes lay with their Medic and his vial of antidote…  
*Like the present?* Deja asked.   
Chael smiled moments before he blacked out.


	12. Quarantine

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Two: Operation FlatFeet**

  
(A/N Welcome to the end of the FlatFeet Saga, Act 2. Here the hunt for the beast FlatFeet ends, and the Platoon realises just how far they will have to go to save their friend. This final chapter, also long, deals with the technical side of things, as you shall see, in dealing with the Omega virus. For now, I bit you farewell. This is where this story slips away from the practical and into the metaphysical…as you shall see. Now that hopefully I have enticed you to read on what will most probably be the longest section of the saga, I bid you _adieu_. Till we meet again. ~G.A.Pap.)  
  
Chapter 12: Quarantine  
  
When Mon slowly awoke the only other person in what was unmistakably a hospital room the local Chaplin, a Brown Squirrel named Boccardo, giving the last rites. Mon took a moment to see all the machinery he was plugged to, and the large amount of blood on his bandaged stomach, before he gently alerted the Chaplin to his presence with a cough, a cough that suddenly brought all the pain that had gone missing back to him. He moaned.  
Boccardo was amazed. He said something quickly to the young medic but Mon heard it from afar. He faded out again…  
  
When Mon came too again he saw rows of familiar faces.  
Sarge, Oreos and Chael looked deadly serious. Pyst and Squeaky had wide grins on their faces. Dark and Stealth stood by the door, solemn. Ricy was eating the hospital food as fast as he could. Deja helped prop Mon up on a pillow. Standing behind her were Snickers and WWW, the latter looking far more…civilized. Blaze and Ajax had just walked in, carrying two 'Get well soon' balloons. Using a magic marker they had added: Ya lucky bastard! To Mon's surprise he saw RedStorm and Eric Cartman also there waiting for his recovery. Twisted and CoolGuy were talking to the nurse, trying to explain what they were all doing here.  
  
"You.... probably want to know.... what happened..." Mon rasped. A smile crept around the room as he said that.   
Rapid questions were fired, a mix of topics ranging from what had happened in the woods, to his state of health. At long last Sarge came forward and stared directly into Mon's eyes.  
"Soldier…what happened?"  
Deja helped Mon have a sip of water. Feeling refreshed the Medic began his tale…  
  
"I broke away from everyone and went looking for FlatFeet. He was nowhere to be seen but had left a trail…a trail of blood. I kept following that trail and the forest got thicker but eventually I was lost and the trail had gone cold. I tried to retrace it but I ended up more lost than found."   
Mon began sputtering, his words coming out in between harsh coughs.   
"Eventually…that…bastard found me. He just came out of nowhere, out of the ******* blue... and finally, one thing…" Mon began coughing terribly, a small trickle of blood running down his cheek. A burly nurse tried to force the Platoon out.  
"No! Dammit…" Mon yelled. The nurse stopped, but stayed in the room with a sour expression on her face. Mon continued.  
"On thing led to another and he had my neck pinned... to a tree and my…torso immobilised…with his other…hand. I had trouble breathing…and…but…he seemed to be having trouble of his own. I recon that our FlatFeet was... fighting against that monster inside him…" He wiped off the blood that was dribbling out of the corners of his mouth and had a sip of water.  
"At last I finally managed to say 'Cherry' and that seemed to do the trick… He hesitated when he heard his dead wife's name… It gave my arms enough space to grab the serum from my pocket and jab his arm. That made him...angry… He leaned back and…" Mon fell back on his pillow, exhausted, his body starting to convulse with each cough.  
A grey silence hung in the room.  
"They said you were going to die," Twisted said.  
"You were messed up pretty good," Ajax added.   
"Oh...ye of little...Faith…" smirked Mon. "How bad... was I?"  
The nurse came forward.   
"Your ribs were broken. You had small ruptures in you kidneys and liver and…" she rambled on for a bit. Mon's bushy eyebrows were raised in surprise.   
"Damn...how long was I here?"   
"Four weeks," CoolGuy said.  
Everyone stopped speaking. They seemed hesitant. Mon knew. They were hiding something.  
"You're not telling me something..."  
Sarge cleared his throat.  
"Mon, you did a real fine job. Risked you life for FlatFeet, showed true bravery and-"   
"What is it?"  
Sarge ran his tongue round his teeth, a motion that showed a confession was coming.  
"The serum didn't work…entirely. His body is back to normal but his mind…is still part animal…"  
  
_-=~~**~~=-_  
  
_*beep*  
*beep*  
*beep*  
_  
"Woah...what the hell is that?" Mon asked from the comfort of his wheel chair. He was to stay in the chair till he fully recovered.  
  
_*beep*  
*beep*  
  
_"FlatFeet." It was Chael.  
  
_*beep*  
*beep*_  
  
"Yeah," Chael continued, "he's in suspended animation. The jelly keeps him upright in one place and the mask lets him breathe. A little invention of mine in case we ever hauled in a live one."  
  
_*beep*  
*beep*  
*beep*_  
  
"His heart's the beep. Keepin' an eye on his vitals."  
FlatFeet was suspended in an orange jelly like substance, upright in a glass tube. Computer screens were set up all around him and needles poked his skin, extracting the information and delivering the necessary items to survive.  
"It's lucky that after Operation: FlatFeet, the Agency's put us back on its payroll…"  
"And gave us all a promotion," Mon added.   
"We'd never be able to access these facilities on our own," Chael finished.  
They stared at their immobile friend.  
"And now?" Mon asked. Chael sighed.   
"Now we wait..."  
  
-Two weeks later-  
  
_*beep*  
*beep*  
  
_A telephone's ring sliced through the still air. Chael and WWW who had been keeping an eye on FlatFeet jumped six inches off their chairs. They had fallen asleep. Rubbing his eyes with his paws Chael picked up the phone. WWW yawned and scratched his belly.  
"This is C branch," he yawned, "Who's this?"  
"Hello. My name is Dr. Wesley Robonovich. I believe a certain..." he paused and the sound of cards being shuffled through was heard, "Capt. Rico Rodriguez wanted to contact me. I believe you have a patient that you would like me to see."  
Chael snapped upright.  
"Please hold!" He leapt out of his chair and slammed his paw on the door release. His shoes were heard slapping along the linoleum before WWW even had time to ask:   
"Who is it?" With Chael already far ahead, he had no choice but to grudgingly trudge after him.  
Chael dashed through the Platoon's reinstated HQ knocking on the Bunker bedroom doors as he went. Sleepy eyed faces peered out of doorways. Even Dark looked sleepy.  
"What?" CoolGuy rasped. He swung on his shades. Twisted, his roommate, shrugged and went back to bed.  
Chael made it to Sarge's door. He burst in. Sarge sat upright and fired two rounds from the Dostovei hidden under his pillow. Chael froze as pieces of plaster rained down on his forehead.  
"You need to work on your aim."  
"It sure as hell better be good! If I come a little closer it isn't gonna miss, know what I'm saying!?"   
Chael tossed Sarge the phone.  
"It's the Doc."  
A pause.  
"**The** Doc?!"   
"Yeah."  
Sarge put the phone to his ear and cleared his throat.  
"Rodriguez here."  
The voice that replied had a hint of an accent. At three in the morning Sarge couldn't place it. Weasel though, that much was certain.  
"Ah, Mr. Rodriguez. I'm calling regarding a phone call that was patched through to my office. I understand you have a patient that needs...special treatment..."  
"Yeah - special treatment."   
"Hmmm...you know who employ's both you and I Mr. Rodriguez?"   
Sarge lowered his voice to a whisper.   
"Conker T. Squirrel, Head of the Agency."   
"Hmm…the reply is satisfactory. Go ahead. Tell me what's wrong."   
"Is this line secure?"   
"Yes."   
"One of my soldiers: Joshua 'FlatFeet' Evans..." Sarge was interrupted.   
"Husband to Cherry Evans? I heard about that one. Sorry, for what it is worth."   
"Yes. Thanks I guess… On recent mission codenamed ::Total War:: FlatFeet contracted the Omega Virus."   
The Professor sucked air through his teeth.  
"That's a nasty one that is..."  
"His handiwork is scattered round the country side."   
"I watch the news Mr. Rodriguez."   
"Did you also hear on the grape vine that we administered the 'antidote'?"   
"Indeed."   
"FlatFeet's body was returned to normal. But his mind is still part animal. He needs your...special treatment...to get back again."  
"Where is he contained?"   
"Suspended animation - C branch."   
"Hmmm…" The sounds of a pencil scribbling on paper were heard, then... "Alright. I shall be there tomorrow. 0930 hours sharp. You and your men get a good night's rest. The process takes it toll on both body and mind."  
"0930."   
"Till tomorrow Mr. Rodriguez."  
  
_-=~~**~~=-_  
   
The Platoon were relatively lucky as to where they were placed at HQ. The double-digit, which at first was just a choice of fate, now meant how close they were to the top - one stage from the double 0's of Britain.  
They were also only 5 floors below the surface, a simple elevator leading above ground to the training grounds hidden behind the 'Pedestrian Pavement Authorities'.   
Conker thought of the place. Blame him.  
Upon entering the building your body is x-rayed, revealing any weapons you may be carrying. The Professor came up on the screen clean. Level Alpha let him through.  
Secondly your retinas are scanned - the only signature mark that is inerasable. It is the only thing The Agency uses to confirm your identity. The Professor checked out. The Beta doors slid open with a pressurized hiss. He came to the last section before The Lift. Section Gamma.   
This section is completely empty and was once an airlock used once in a scrapped space program. If you act suspicious or come up 'dirty' on the other two scans here you are lured, trapped and the space is turned into a vacuum.  
Messy.  
  
The Professor walked on through, people around here knew him. He spoke out to the Squirrel in charge of The Lift.  
"Take me to the 99th."   
The Lift Operator nodded. He had strict orders to ask no questions and let the Professor go ahead with his...special treatment. They both stepped into the elevator. With a soft *_ping!_* the doors shut.  
  
The elevator doors slid open with yet another *_ping!_* The Lift Operator stretched a hand towards the corridor. The Professor nodded, lifted his black suitcase and walked out the door.  
Instantly a shadowy figure flipped down from the ceiling. Stealth looked the Professor up and down, nodded and began leading the way to C Branch. The Lift returned to the top floor.  
The Platoon had been assembled. They weren't cutting any slack this time. FlatFeet's life was on the line.  
The Professor went straight to Chael.  
"Have you set up the machinery I asked for?"   
Chael nodded, indicating the chairs set up in a circular fashion around FlatFeet's tank. Cables were running from FlatFeet's brain to each and every chair. It was a rushed job, but it would do.  
The Professor took the floor.  
  
"What we are about to do has only been tried on one other occasion...with disastrous results."  
Somebody swallowed loudly.  
"Perhaps some of you are unaware of my method of treatment...Mr. Evans can only be cured from the inside out."  
Somebody raised a hand. "And how do we do that?"  
"We, all of us, will be...inserted into Mr. Evans' unconscious."  
"Oh," somebody mumbled, "Is that all?"   
The Prof. sneered.  
"There is more...Mr. Evans' mind now is in a terrible state...torn between two personalities. In his mind, he controls everything. Down to basic things, like the Laws of Physics...He can literally manifest whatever he feels like. This is where the danger is. These 'manifestations' will appear so real...that should we believe them we may receive physical harm...'   
"Yeah, but isn't it like a video game? You press restart and it's back to square one?"   
"No," the Prof. shook his head, "Not at all. If for one second you are absorbed by the power of these images you have two options. The first is to fight back with our own 'projections'. In this case they will include weapons. The second is to attempt to shake Mr. Evans' control over our minds. However should you receive harm...your mind will be so convinced that it is real...that your bodies shall be damaged here, for real. And should you...die...well. The body cannot exist without the mind..."  
  
There was a piercing silence. Sarge got up.  
"I'm going. It's dangerous; we've seen worse. It's scary; we've seen it before. It's FlatFeet; we leave no man behind…"  
The Platoon nodded in agreement. Sarge turned to face the Professor.  
"Load us up."  
  
The soldier's that would be coming sat on the chairs as they felt the sensors pierce their skin, ready to transfer them into FlatFeet's mind… The Professor looked round at them all. He could only hope they would all come out again.  
  
He flipped the switch.


	13. All in the Mind

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N After a very, very, very long withdrawal from the writing scene, I now find myself propelled back into the thick of things, with summer in its healthy throng and the hours of spare time I have increasing. Much has changed in Plat99n life since then, another monster-sized mission has been completed, and our fanfiction works are now hosted on If you came here from there, I suggest checking out some of the other good fanfiction on this site, but if you're here from don't be afraid to visit one of the best unofficial Conker websites out there. With that minor update, I leave you be, to read, relax and review.)

Chapter 13: All in the Mind

They cried out in pain as electricity surged through their temples. Their screams melded together into one electric pitch...metallic, sonorous...

All was quiet.

They were in.

Sarge looked around him, performing a quick head count. All fourteen of them looked okay. The same didn't apply as to where the heck they were.  
The roads were an endless maze...stretching off into infinity. Tall granite grey buildings rose into a bloody rust-red sky.  
"We have entered the mind of Mr. Evans..." the Professor whispered.  
They stood still for a second absorbing that fact. Someone whistled.  
"Damn! FlatFeet's really up if ya ask me."

_bwuhooo...sniff ah, hahaurg...sniff sniff waaah... _

The hair at the back of Sarge's neck rose. He trudged off towards the source of the whimpering. He pointed two fingers; Dark and the Professor came with him.  
Crouched down at the end of the alley was a white, pearly and transparent image of a defeated and crushed Squirrel.  
The real FlatFeet.  
He looked up, reached out a hand, and vanished.

"Screw this !" CoolGuy squeaked, "I'm getting the hell outta here!"  
"CoolGuy! Wait!" RedStorm yelled, reaching for him. Kenny 'CoolGuy' Johnson ran straight past him. RedStorm swore, turning to find the main unit.  
CoolGuy ran on. Soon he was walking along a road, a long road. Twisted shapes resembling trees ran along the sides of it. It began to grow dark…so much darker… It grew quiet.  
Oh so quiet. CoolGuy tripped on a root that seemed to rise out of the ground and into his way. He felt rain on the back of his neck. His hand reached for the medium sized Shaolin blade donated to him while he was searching for Sarge in a Buddhist monastery.

"_Is anybody out there?_" he whispered.  
_…_

Sarge looked round for the weeping Squirrel. Nothing. He had vanished.  
**_How did you get here!  
_**The voice was guttural, brutal - filled with primal fury. The voice emanated from thin air...  
"We're here for FlatFeet. Give him back."  
**_Leave...  
"_**I don't think I can d-"  
**_LEAVE NOW!  
_**"Not until I-"  
**_If that is how you shall be...  
_**A laugh. Filled with evil...pure evil.  
**_Step into my lair said the spider to the fly!  
_**The laugh continued even as the floor under Sarge's feet vanished, even as he saw himself tumbling...falling into a bottomless pit, a pit filled with sulphur coloured flames!  
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGGGHHH!" he screamed.  
_Rico! He's trying to expel you!  
_The voice was far away...  
_Rico! It's an illusion, a trick of the mind! Stay with me, listen to my voice!  
_It became clearer...nearer...  
_Fake. It isn't there...  
_Sarge collapsed into a heap. He was trembling all over. After a minute on his own he managed to shakily stand on one knee...then stand erect. He breathed out.  
"We're gonna need bigger guns."

Pyst scanned the area. Sarge, Dark, RedStorm, and Cool Guy had all gone missing.  
"Bloody hell..." he cursed. They were barely into the mission and already some of the team had gone missing. He looked at the area Sarge had followed the voice to. An impassable wall stood in the way.  
"Hey Oreos! Was that wall always there?"  
Pyst turned to Oreos, only to not find Oreos, but a hideous demon resembling Oreos. Pyst raised his rifle into the demon's face. In the blink of an eye, the demon disappeared and Oreos stared down the barrel of Pyst's gun.  
"What'd I do?"  
"Uh…nothing. Sorry. Was that wall over there, there a minute ago?"  
"I don't know, didn't Sarge go that way?"  
"I think so... I'm betting that FlatFeet is trying to separate us, pick us off one by one..."  
"Well that's comforting," Oreos said bluntly. Pyst turned and looks at the impassable wall.  
"As long as we stick together we..."  
Pyst turned around. Oreos, and the rest of the Platoon, had disappeared.  
"Guys? Where the hell'd you guys go?...$!"

Oreos couldn't believe it. Everybody else was gone, just like that.  
"Where'd they go? man... This place is freaking me out."  
He looked around. Same old ruined buildings, with a damp red sky overhead. A bead of sweat dripped down from the side of Oreos' cheeks, as he felt his stomach do another 180. Of all the missions, this was the first one he was nervous about.  
"But why?" he asked himself out loud. He paused. "Maybe...cuz FlatFeet's in trouble..."  
**No..._  
_**"Who said that!" Oreos gripped his K7 and spun around.  
**Why are you afraid? Oreos? Relax, I'll take care of you..._  
_**"Shut **up**!"  
A moaning came from the left. Two zombie squirrels approached the lone squirrel. Oreos took a step back. Suddenly, two paws grabbed him from behind in a tight bear hug. His K7 hit the ground.  
"Don't panic. That's the number 1 rule!" he squeaked hysterically.  
He elbowed whoever it was holding him, but the grip didn't weaken. Oreos looked in front of him to see that a horde of zombies had assembled, and were closing in on him ever so slowly... with nothing but an empty look and the soft moan for flesh.  
The one holding him took a bit out of his neck. One pulled his hair and bit on his cheeks. Yes. For the first time ever, Oreos let out a loud, long scream. Or rather, a silent one, as no one around had heard him.  
That's the deal right? Tree falls, no one around. No sound at all... Oreos thought this over as he felt more teeth dig into his skin. A flash of white ended this nightmare.  
The double O opened his eyes, to see his K7 lying on the ground beside him. He was cuddled up, lying on the dirty and cracked cement, shivering.  
**I made them go away. I am here to help you..._  
_**"Guys..." Oreos whimpered, "Where are you?"

Blaze stood amidst what remained of the main team. He folded his arms across his chest, the red and black spikes running down his back rising and falling as he breathed. The latest recruit began to address Deja, arming her grenade launcher, Ricy, eating a donut, WWW, no longer living in dementia, and Ajax, flicking a lighter on and off nervously.  
"They are weak of mind. Therefore they are susceptible to what can only be know as 'It'. It's an illusion. Or is it? It feels real, looks real. Nothing can be done to prevent it except beat it."  
Ajax stared cynically.  
"I've got a Michael Jackson joked lined up here, but I'm gonna keep my mouth shut."  
Blaze continued.  
"We are being drawn in to his world. His twisted, demented thoughts will become reality. Once you are in there is only one thing to do - the only thing that you can. Typically, these dream worlds are straightforward; your goal clear from the start. However, some are non-linear. If you find yourself in one of these types of dreams you must find what to do. It will not be presented for you. Once you defeat the world, however, it will shatter, leaving you right where you were when you entered."  
"So," Deja said sliding her combat knife into her belt, "Basically if we don't die, we'll make it out of here sometime?"  
"Exactly."  
Ricy wiped sugar off of his beak with his three-clawed hand.  
"That's reassuring to know."  
"Tell me about it," the Tediz defector scoffed.  
"We have to find the neural Core. It's probably represented here in some demented fashion…" He turned to the others. "I'll be back in a flash."  
Blaze ran, nothing visible but a black and red streak as he sped away.

CoolGuy stared into the darkness. He could make out a round, plump figure smiling at him from the darkness.  
"Buddha?" CoolGuy whispered in awe. The figure smiled, nodding. It moved towards CoolGuy slowly, with controlled motions.  
The sunglass-donning Venezuelan had taken time to stay with the monks at the monastery Sarge had been hiding from society in. There he had acquired some of the basic principles of Buddhism, finding peace in the monk's teachings. Yet he was, and is, a fighter. He could never accept a vow of non-violence. Hence only the teachings remained with him, and the monk's gift of a medium sized Shaolin blade. He looked at the moving statue. It eyes glowed red.  
CoolGuy flicked his blade out of his belt, ramming it through the statues head. The figure shattered, and a harsh laugh was heard.  
"Good move FlatFeet…but you forgot an old saying: 'If you see Buddha on the side of the road, kill him, because Buddha only lives within each of us." He sheathed his sword, and found himself standing beside Dark, the Professor, and a panting Sarge.

"God this feels good…" Mon sighed, stretching his legs. He knew that this illusion was only temporary, and when they went back he'd still be stuck in that damn wheel chair for another two weeks, but he still felt grateful for the opportunity. His legs had wandered, taking him away from the Platoon. He hastily started doubling back.  
The ruined city buildings had vanished, leaving a towering Gothic cathedral in its place, its windows shattered, its stone structure black and crumbling.  
He swallowed, hitched all his equipment and went inside.  
When he entered, he noticed that the place was badly lit, no one was there and yet out of some corner someone was softly singing Latin hymns.  
He approached the shrine and out of habit did the sigh of the cross. But as he looked to the shrine again, he noticed something about the crucified Jesus. Something else was there. Something else was on it. He moved closer and felt his stomach flip.  
Sarg's limp body hung over one side of the cross, stake through. He spun round, screaming. Mon squinted his eyes, the sudden brightness of Pyst as a burning corpse blinding him. He tried to back off but only bumped into Chael, or what was left of him.  
He started to panic. He kept telling himself that it was just an illusion.  
"**I can't help it!**" he cried, " It's so damn _real…"  
_He closed his eyes tightly as hot tears started to well up. An evil laughter literally shook the cathedral and when he opened his eyes, he was back on the streets, half a block from the Platoon.  
He sat down on the foot of a building shaking his head and whimpering. He wiped his eyes shortly and dashed back to the others.  
If the voice that laughed at him had a face, it would be smiling malevolently.  
**I've won that one now. He is mine to bend as I please **.****

RedStorm gripped his M16 as he looked around his surroundings. Darkness and tall grey building surrounded him. He called once for anyone but was only greeted by the whimpering, screaming and laughter. He raised an eyebrow.  
He began walking through the dark and lonely place when a familiar yell was heard nearby.  
"Sarge!" He began running in the direction he heard him. Turning a corner he found Sarge and the others. CoolGuy appeared behind him.  
"Red!" CoolGuy hissed, "Where the hell is everyone!"

A mind of nearly fastidious mess crawled between the cracks in the buildings. Algae like worms. The air was profound in the worst way imaginable. Stealth was nervous; his body had never felt so twisted or humid. The breeze swept Stealth off his feet, he sunk down like a puddle, sweat dripped like a river off his forehead. Something was wrong here. Something terrible. FlatFeet had a great mind, but there was evil at work here. Stealth unsheathed his ivory-handled blade awkwardly. He nearly fell to the ground, but soon vertigo was erased from his mind. Stealth cried aloud, but only an echo called back.  
He slashed the air behind him, as that foul wind whipped round his neck once more. His nose twitched and his tail flicked through the air. Peering round the corner he could make out a shadowy group of figures gathered in a circle. Stealth swallowed.  
"Sarge? Is that you?"  
Stealth walked away from the twisted buildings as a single granite grey tile appeared floating in midair. It quickly folded out, forming a larger square of yellow light. It expanded like an iris, opening wide.  
Red eyes stared at the surroundings. Black wrap-around shades slid onto a ghost-white muzzle. The gate behind Chael closed.  
He was learning at a rapid rate, his thirst for knowledge and power through knowledge growing. Getting inside FlatFeet's mind…inside the mind of the Omega progenitor virus was a once in a lifetime opportunity and he would be damned if he was going to sit back and watch the base with Twisted, Snickers, Squeaky and Cartman.  
"Amateurs," he scoffed, fixing up the white lab coat he wore over a blue shirt and black jeans.  
He walked off on his own, his boots crunching along the gravel.


	14. Mind Trap

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N Not much to say here, except that I'm ploughing on with the story. A couple of Platooners might be wondering where that additional scene between Blaze and the Omega came from, and I have to admit to creating it. I needed a link to explain a certain disappearance, crucial to the story later on. I hope you can forgive and understand me.)

Chapter 14: Mind Trap

Stealth tapped Sarge on the shoulder. Sarge's arm moved in reflex, almost mechanically, to his weapon. Stealth jerked back. Sarge's lower lip was quivering.  
"S-sorry...I didn't..."  
Stealth nodded. He understood. Sarge looked at the others that had assembled around him, Stealth, RedStorm, CoolGuy, Dark…  
"Wait…" Sarge checked again. "Where's the Professor?"  
"He was here a minute ago Sarge!" RedStorm drew his staff, activating the three-pronged blade at either end. "This place is giving me the creeps."  
"Understand this, all of you." Sarge stared at them. "I don't want anybody going anywhere alone! If you don't go with a partner don't go at all. Always make sure someone knows where you're going! Most of us have already tasted what this…Omega can cook up..."  
"Hey," CoolGuy looked around him to make sure, "Where are Oreos, Pyst and Blaze?"  
Sarge narrowed his eyes, staring past Dark's shoulder. He moved his mouth ever so slightly, keeping his voice to a whisper.  
"We're being watched...nobody move a muscle or say anything."  
He pointed with his eyes. They followed the gaze.  
It was like the sky above them was a backdrop and someone had just torn a rip through it. Spying on them from high above was a single eye. Rust coloured irises surrounded a flaming red pupil. Just as Sarge was getting a good look at it, the tear seemed to 'stich' itself back up, and vanished.  
"Move!" he yelled. "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-move!" No body asked any questions. They knew exactly why they were moving. They had just been spotted.  
Targeted.

Pyst took a step backwards cautiously. He held his left arm outstretched and over it hung his ammunition feed. In his right arm he nervously pointed the minigun at anything that moved. His tail twitched nervously. He felt it brush against something behind him.  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!" Pyst screamed.  
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Oreos yelled back.  
"OREOS! You ! You scared the beejeezus outta me!"  
"I'm glad to see you too..."  
"_Move! M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-move!_" It was Sarge's voice.  
The cry wasn't coming from too far away. They were close by. They ran...

Stealth trailed behind the others, sweat dripping off of his brow, his mind being torn apart... A high-pitched cry shot through his head, as he fell limply to the floor.  
"AAAAAAHHHH!" he bellowed aloud...  
The others heads whipped heads towards Stealth, his expression one of pain. Again he had entered the mind of FlatFeet. Voices spoke to him, eerily whispering ravings of madness into his ear. He felt the earth below him swallow him up in a black hole. Sarge and Dark doubled back, hauling the unconscious soldier to his feet.  
Sarge was panting hard. He was out of shape. He looked at the CoolGuy and RedStorm up ahead.  
"Don't..." he panted, "look...back!" His breathing was fast, sharp, cut.  
"Go...go...**GO!"** he yelled. He and Dark dragged the unconscious Stealth along the road...  
"Let's...just...dump him!" Dark growled.  
Sarge looked harshly at Dark. Dark's fangs glittered.  
"Just...kidding."  
"Sarge!" It was Mon. The Medic ran along side the burly Team Leader and asked the 'forbidden' question.  
"Where are we going?"  
"Any where," Sarge huffed, "But here!"  
The crunching of boots on gravel could not disguise another sound that sprang up. From far away, yet seemingly close, sinister laughter could be heard approaching them from within the shadows.  
They had to go to _somewhere_. Somewhere where they would be safe. Those building that surrounded them did not appear to friendly and no one was willing to try them out.  
"_Join us…_"  
The voices were getting closer. No one dared to take a look backwards.  
It was then that the figures started to appear. Disfigured and dismembered, they only appeared in the corner of people's minds and eyes, like the windowsill under a lamppost, but if you looked twice, they would be gone.  
"_Sings we a song of wolves...who smell fear and slay the cowards..._"  
RedStorm felt their breath as they whispered in his ear.  
Adrenalin was pumping. The figures started appearing more often and more clearly.  
An eerie silence followed. The voices stopped. Mon could only make out their soft footsteps and heavy breathing.

_**STEP INTO MY LAIR, SAID THE SPIDER TO THE FLY!**  
_  
The terrible voice shook the earth, buildings collapsing around the Platoon. With their increasing fatigue and Stealth's unconscious body, dodging the falling rubble became a near-impossibility.  
Suddenly, it stopped. One by one they stopped. They found themselves in a green pasture growing in the middle of the chaotic cityscape. The whispering voices were growing more distant.  
A giant billboard was on the grass. It was a picture of FlatFeet and Cherry, on their wedding night.  
_Help me…_  
It was FlatFeet's voice.  
_You'll be safe here…for a bit… Rest_

Blaze stood on a hill, rising above the ground. The ground was pinkish-red and sprung up after he had stepped away from it. On closer inspection it seemed to pulse with a regular beat. With disgust Blaze realized he was standing on a hill of flesh, tiny blue veins and red arteries coursed through the pink mass. He looked up at the giant glass cylinder at the top of the hill, a glowing green orb floating above it.  
"Shadows. Darkness. Fear. Hate. These are the things this place is made of."  
Blaze the Hedgehog stood up, noticing a cool breeze sweeping outside of the Core. He stepped inside a single opening. The scene flickered before his eyes, like someone changing T.V. channels rapidly. He saw a hall of mirrors, his reflection in each of them horribly distorted.  
He shook his head.  
"I will not be taken that easily…"  
He stepped forward, and the scene returned to the original glass tower. He looked skyward. There was nothing but shadows and darkness.  
"You can't beat all of us, you know," he said aloud, seemingly to no one. "One of us, at a minimum, **will** reach the centre." He started to grin, and began to walk around. "You think you've got us right where you want us. I'm sorry, do you honestly think we're THAT stupid?"

**SLAM **

A huge black cylinder had fallen from the sky-like ceiling, and almost landed on Blaze, had he not dived out of the way.  
"You make too much noise…" he said, and stopped. He had reached the centre of the tower.  
"Why don't you just give up now? We can beat whatever guardian you've got behind this door."  
The door slammed open, knocking Blaze backwards onto his ass.  
"Ouch." He stood up to brush himself off. "That's just gonna make the ass whuppin' you get at the end of this worse, you know."  
He drew his Phazon-coated Uzi and walked forward into the room.

Pyst and Oreos walked down the lonely street together.  
"Alright, if we don't make it out of here alive, I just wanna say I'm sorry."  
"For what?" Pyst asked.  
"All the jokes about your ex-girlfriend and stuff."  
"Ah, don't worry about it."  
In their search for the other 99ners, the two squirrels found nothing at all. After walking down an endless street for a couple of hours, they decided to take a break.  
"Hold on Oreos, I gotta take a leak." Pyst walked behind a wall, or what was left of it. Not even 5 minutes later, Oreos heard gunshots being fired. He ran to where Pyst was, to see him fending off a dark figure, no…not just dark, but completely black. It was the shape of a wolf, and it twitched every time Pyst fired at it.  
"Let me take care of this!"  
Oreos took a clip out of his back pocket while unloading his current one into the beast. The black wolf gave a look at Oreos, and then jumped on Pyst. Oreos took his K7 and whacked the beast with the butt of the rifle. Pyst let out a cry as Oreos grabbed the thing by the neck and threw it against the wall. Oreos took a knife and turned to Pyst.  
"Hey Pyst, check this out, I've been working on this move for we-- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"  
The thing had bitten Oreos in the leg.  
Taking his knife, he stabbed it till it let go. Pyst took out his shotgun, strapped onto his back, and knocked the thing unconscious.  
"Should I kill it?"  
"WHAT! OF COURSE!"  
"But it looks so cool. I want to keep it as a pet."  
Oreos fainted. Pyst scoffed and shot the 'shadow wolf' in the head. Green ooze exploded out of the thing's head. The headless wolf dived straight back at Pyst.  
"SHIIIIIIII-"  
The wolf suddenly stopped, staring at a figure highlighted in a golden glow.  
"**Back,**" the figure demanded in a stern voice. The wolf turned away, running off into the shadows. Pyst armed his shotgun as he head a familiar chuckle.  
"Chael!"  
"Yeah."  
"You crazy mother! How'd you do that!"  
"It's all in the mind Pyst…all in the mind…"

The minute Dark threw Stealth to rest on the ground; the Panther saw a flash of white. He was suddenly teleported to an isolated place. There were no roads, trees, or buildings. Nothing. Then, one dark figure approached from over the horizon. It came closer and closer. Dark just stared at what stood in front of him. He had mixed emotions of sorrow, hate... Flatfeet's mind had brought up something from Dark's past that he wished he would never have to face again...  
What stood before him now was his mother. The beautiful Panther, which gave, birth to him oh so long ago. Her eyes were somewhat gentle; looking over the hard, black-hearted panther her son had grown to be. When she touched his face, he tilted his head to get away from her. He still faintly remembered where he was. She looked at him, puzzled at his attitude.  
"Ryan… I'm your mother...don't you love your mother?" she said, her words cutting into Dark like a hot blade.  
Dark leaned into her, embracing her. His voice became raspy, low, and full of hatred and sorrow. His 'mother's' eyes widened at the sound of the combat knife leaving its sheathe. She felt it pierce her spinal column, severing all contact with any part of her body below the shoulders. Dark looked at her as she fell to the ground, a deafening scream emitting from her inhuman vocal cords.  
"You…are not my mother...and my name…is Dark…" He said aloud, turning his attention to the sky. "My mind is much darker than you could imagine… I will not be fooled by such weak trickery…"  
Just as the words left his mouth, he was shot back to somewhat consciousness. Someone was saying his name. His vision was blurry for a few moments. He shook his head, realizing that he had just been standing here, staring off into nowhere for the last...ten or so minutes. He looked behind him, to his fellow Platoon.  
"I just…killed my mother…" he announced. RedStorm backed up a little, seeing that Dark's eyes looked like they were filled with even more hatred than usual. He was angry. Not only did his violet eyes change to a cardinal colour...but also his muscles seemed to bulge a little more…and veins were forced to surface because of his biceps. He growled, wanting to kill or seriously injure someone…

CoolGuy looked at Dark sideways.  
"**_Don't look at me like that…_**" the Panther growled, his voice growing deeper.  
"Hey Dark...is everything ok?"  
Dark just stared at him. Suddenly he unsheathed his sword and stabbed CoolGuy in the stomach. Blood started pouring out and dripping onto the grass. Dark was turning the blade in his gut. He couldn't break the illusion, FlatFeet's mind was taking over his own, he got weaker and fell to his knees.  
**_See, I told you that it was only the beginning. I control everything. You're friend 'Dark' thought he had lost me. What he didn't realize was that I had found him…  
_**"C-can't…stand…" CoolGuy whispered.  
He blacked out.

**Blaze, you're friends are lost…_  
_**The inner chamber pulsed steadily, as if Blaze had stepped into the actual heart of the beast itself. Thin 'windows' appeared in front of Blaze. It showed Ajax drowning underwater, the Professor burning at the stake, WWW clutching his arm as his Squirrel armband tightened severing it at the bicep, Ricy being tormented by a short yellow talking sponge in brown square shorts.  
**They've all submitted to me. Just like you will_  
_**"And what makes you so sure of that?"  
**Believe me I can. I can make all of you break_  
_**"Who are you? Really? You're not FlatFeet, so don't even try to pass yourself off as him."  
**True. There's no harm in that. I am Omega_  
_**"The virus?"  
A spike made of bone shot toward Blaze's gut. The Hedgehog speedily sidestepped.  
**_Silence fool!  
_**"You border between sophistication and brutality Omega. You're so ed up there's no way you could win this."  
**_Oh but I will…  
_**"How exactly?"  
**_I have a bargaining chip over your 'Sarge'  
_**"And what exactly is that?"  
There was a soft slurping sound as something began growing out of the flesh ceiling. It appeared to be a sac…a cocoon…of flesh. A single face was pressed against it, the outline clearly recognisable. Blaze gasped.  
"You son of a bitch…" he whispered.  
**_Exactly. Rodriguez is mine  
_**Blaze drew his weapon ready to fire.  
**_Now, now. None of that  
_**Without warning Blaze found himself falling from a great height to land, with a loud crunch, on the pavement outside. He got up, swearing, and shot off to find Sarge and warn him.

"Does anyone know what's up with CoolGuy?" Dark asked. They all turned round to see CoolGuy bent over and unconscious. He made pitiful choking noises.  
"He's hallucinating…" Mon said, kneeling down to inspect. "It's the Omega."  
As if on cue, FlatFeet spoke.

_Oh no…he's here! Guys! You have to leave! NOW! I'll try and hold him off!  
_The grass they were on started wilting and blossoming at random.  
_Go! **Now!**  
_The eye was again visible in the sky. It watched the skittering figures with great interest.  
"But, CoolGuy's out cold! And Stealth! We'd have to drag..."  
Sarge stared at him coolly. RedStorm's mouth went wide. He finally understood.  
"Good Lord... They're crippling us...they're dead weight and he's going to kill us…"  
_HURRY...C-Can't hold him off...for long..._  
The grass beneath their feet finally wilted and died, the picture on the billboard of FlatFeet and Cherry bursting into a flame in the shape of an upside down horseshoe-like letter…  
The Ωmega.  
Reluctantly they dragged the unconscious Platoon member's to their feet and ran towards the darker, more brutal, side of town, where they would ultimately find the Omega. Behind them, swarming now over the dead field, were the Shadows. They began their peculiar chants…  
"_Come play with us…now. Now that your doom becons…_"


	15. The Pyst Effect

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N Just a note: When characters conveniently vanish from the plot, supposedly lost in the mind of Omega, this occurs when their participation in the mission ended, or went on hold till later. Seeing how making people disappear at opportune moments is what the Omega does, it doesn't pose too large a plot hole, and I hope that you, the reader can forgive me for taking such and easy and weasel-like path out of that problem. Till then, I can entertain you with the stories concerning the active member's, and in this particular one, a certain maniac that we all know and love…)

Chapter 15: The Pyst Effect

"_Where am I?_" CoolGuy asked groggily. He opened his eyes, his vision blurry at first. He could see nothing but black. Not darkness, but pure pitch black. He felt as if he was floating in a sea of it. As he rolled over, carried away in this dark stream of nothing, he saw a pearly white orb float dreamily past him.  
"Who the hell are you?"  
_I am FlatFeet's unconscious projection…  
_ "I thought you were evil."  
_That would be the Omega. FlatFeet's conscience, meaning me, has been subdued when the Omega took control_  
CoolGuy could feel the cool stillness that came from floating in the black void of FlatFeet's subconscious.  
"This feels good…" he sighed.  
_It's the only good part of FlatFeet's mind that still survives. It's a stream of his happiest moments_  
The orb pulsed with a strong and brilliant white light that fluctuated when it spoke.  
_You may rest here Kenny. You are safe in this unconsciousness. Both FlatFeet and I shall protect you. Now I must go_  
"What do I do here?"  
_Regain your strength. Before the end, you will need it_  
"You have to help Stealth! He's also knocked out."  
_Don't worry Kenny, I will collect him as I did you_  
In a burst of pure white the orb vanished, leaving CoolGuy floating in the endless stream of FlatFeet's purest memories.

Chael took a look at Oreos' wound from the wolf bite. The flesh was turning green, and blood was slowly spewing out.   
"! This hurts..." the Double-O agent groaned.  
"I don't have any medical supplies with me," Pyst growled, "You're just going to have to stick it out buddy."  
Chael stood up slowly, examining the landscape, before Oreos cried out in pain.  
"Oh ... I feel something!"  
"What the hell is that stuff!" Pyst groaned, pointing at Oreos' wound. Green maggots started to pour out of it. Chael stepped on them, but twice as many came out.  
"Oreos! Stay calm! Oreos!" Chael continued to stamp out the maggots, "Cover the wound!"  
"**No!** Get this stuff out of me! **Get it out!**" Oreos shrieked  
Pyst's head was hung low. He clutched an axe in his paw. Oreos and Chael did no notice when or where he got it, since they were distracted. Pyst had no idea where he got it either, but he suddenly an idea.  
"_Chael, get out of the way._" His voice came out in sporadic rattles.  
Chael looked over his shoulder, to see the axe in Pyst's paws.  
"What is it?"  
"_I can help Oreos._"  
"What? How?"  
"_Just step aside. I can take away the pain._"

"What are you going to do to?"  
"**_I SAID MOVE!_**"  
"**NO!**"  
Chael reached for the weapon, but before he could, Pyst raised the axe with both hands high into the air, and brought it down upon Chael. It landed right in Chael's chest. Pyst yanked the axe out, and Chael's body fell to the ground. He then proceeded to Oreos, who was still sitting down leaning against the wall, and was panting hard.  
"**Pyst!** Fight it! **DON'T DO IT!**" Oreos backed further against the wall.  
"_Don't worry,_" Pyst said calmly "_I'm going to help you... relax._"  
Oreos tried to shift away from Pyst, but he kicked the wound, growling unnaturally, and Oreos could move no more. Pain swept through his leg, a fantastic amount of pain, and he had no choice but scream out loud.  
Pyst raised the axe, and brought it down.

After what appeared to be years of screaming and endless pain, Oreos caught his breath, and looked at what Pyst had done. He had chopped off Oreos' leg.  
"There you go boy... no more pain... no more..."  
Pyst eyes were now empty, with his face swollen and pale.  
"Death would be a godsend now," Oreos thought, breathing deep, "Compared to this place."  
Pyst stood there looking at the destruction he caused. The sound of maniacal laughter filled his head.  
**_Didn't you enjoy that?  
_**Pyst grabbed the axe and looked for the source of the voice.  
**_What? Are you going to use that on me? Very well then, here I am  
_**Chael's body rose and floated in the air. The wound across his chest healed up and his eyes opened. Instead of his usual pink they were a burning red.  
"**_You've used that on me once already. What do you think will happen if you use it again?_**"  
"_I could try it and find out._"  
"**_I have a better idea. How would you like to help more, as you did him?_**" The floating Chael pointed a finger at the fainted Oreos. "**_Now look at this._**"  
In front of Pyst the world seemed to bend. It formed a circular view-screen. Within it, Pyst could see the other Platoon members. Chael appeared behind Pyst, whispering into his ear.  
"**_Look. Stealth and CoolGuy are both unconscious. You need to help them as you helped Oreos. Go to them now and help them._**"  
As Pyst stepped through the portal, Chael collapsed to the ground. He stared at Oreos in shock, and then at Pyst vanishing through the portal. He stared upwards at the rust-red sky, placing his shades back on.  
"For doing that to me, I will kill you." The scientist sniper finished raging at the Omega and slid to Oreos' side. He closed his eyes, forming the image of a whole and healthy leg in his mind. He held his hands over the wound and concentrated.

"_What? Someone there? Join us…_"  
Sarge knew that the Platoon was in trouble. Those with him here were burdened by the weight of the unconscious Stealth and CoolGuy, and he was sure that the others, who had vanished since they arrived, were in worse trouble than any of them.  
As they made their way through the labyrinth-like streets the sign of the Omega was appearing all throughout the city walls, painted in what seemed like blood; flies were hovering around them. The Shdows were again appearing. They continuously made their message clear.  
"_Join us… Blood will spill…_"  
Something behind them made a noise. Everything behind them made a noise. But they didn't dare look, lest it be something they never want ed to see in their life. Yet this voice was different. It was familiar.  
"_I'm going to help you…_"  
That wasn't one of the Shadows. Mon could resist the curiosity no longer. He threw a fleeting glance over his shoulder.   
"Pyst!" he cried. Everyone stopped to look back.  
A big mistake.  
"_Come and play…we'll play together!_"  
The hoard of Shadows gathered on the side of the street that Pyst was on, gliding with a bodiless motion across the street.  
"C_ome and play with us…_"  
The figures weren't clear, shrouded in tattered shrouds and of course the layer of Shadow. They gathered behind Pyst, their eyes glowing red.  
"Pyst! Boy, get out of there!" Sarge yelled, "Behind you!" He stopped. Something didn't seem right.  
"_You will play with us…You will play…**NOW!**_"  
The gathered Platoon watched helplessly as Shadows engulfed Pyst, swarming over and entering his body. He seemed to grow and grow until his body and size was blown to the proportions of a small building.  
"**_I'M GONNA HELP YOU. DON'T BE AFRAID._"  
**"Am I the only one that doesn't find that reassuring?" Dark growled.  
Pyst's fire axe that had turned into a grotesque battleaxe, his eyes were white and his mouth was frothing, his muscles bulged and his legs turned into hooves. He smelled of gangrene and rot.  
He leaned back an readied his axe.  
"**_DON'T YOU WORRY. YOU'LL NEVER FEEL ANY PAIN ANY MORE._"**

The enormous Pyst swung the battleaxe, levelling buildings left and right. The Platoon scrambled in any and every direction possible.  
"**_WHERE ARE YOU GOING! I'M GOING TO HELP YOU... FRIENDS..._**"  
He picked up a large chunk of debris and threw it at Mon. Mon dove, barely missing the crushing rock.  
"**_I CAN MAKE THE PAIN STOP... TRUST ME..._**"  
He kicked over another building, creating a wall of debris. RedStorm, holding Stealth over his shoulder, was trapped. The giant Pyst grinned and raised the axe.  
"**_THIS WILL TAKE THE PAIN AWAY..._**"  
RedStorm closed his eyes, expecting it all to be over in a few seconds of intense pain.  
Pyst demonic face was contorting. Suddenly he screamed in his own voice.   
"NOOOOOOOOO!"  
He turned the axe around and thrust it into his own chest. His grin grew as he watched his own blood seep from his chest.  
"**_WHAT HAPPENED?_**" the demonic voice spoke again. Pyst grinned his psychotic grin.  
"I won't kill my friends... If I have to kill someone from my team...IT'S GONNA BE ME!"  
There was a high pitched shriek as the hoard of Shadows were forced out of the gaping wound that cut deep into Pyst's chest. As they disappeared, fleeting into the darkness, Pyst's body slowly returned to normal. He lay on the ground with the axe still stuck in his chest.  
Sarge and Mon helped RedStorm and Stealth out of the rubble while Dark stood by, CoolGuy hanging from his broad shoulders.  
The Shadows gathered once again around the still body.  
"Fool…"_  
_Without warning Pyst sprung to his feet, yanking the axe out of his chest, his face showing his trademark psychotic scowl.  
"You can't hurt me! I love the pain... No… I CRAVE IT! YOU CAN'T MESS WITH A MIND THAT ALREADY GONE INSANE!"  
Pyst charged into the shadows screaming. The Shadows swarmed over him, like a black cloud. From within Pyst could be heard yelling.  
"DIE! BLEED YOU BASTARDS! YOU CAN'T WIN!"  
With a low rumble both Pyst and the shadows disappeared.

Dark looked upwards, concerned.  
The sky darkened even more, if that was at all possible. They stood, silent, in awe. Pyst was gone. He had disappeared with those Shadows. Then, there was a faint marching sound.  
They looked straight ahead.   
Shadowy figures began emerging above the horizon line. They marched towards them. Their deep, cardinal-coloured eyes stared with anger; wrath. They burned with fury. Murderous intent.  
Dark growled, narrowing his eyes. His violet irises began giving way to a pearly white fog gathering at the corner of his eyes. His tattered black trench coat flowed in the breeze that had picked up. He looked at the oncoming troop of Shadows.  
"This may be a little harder than we'd expected," the last Hunter said gravely, looking at the Platoon members that were still standing: Sarge, Mon and RedStorm. They hid Stealth and CoolGuy behind a chunk of rubble.

The four men lined up in the middle of the road, awaiting their opponents. They stared at the Shadows. Dark felt a bloodlust coming on. He unsheathed his sword and one of his combat knives. His grin widened with every step the Shadows took towards him, well, until he couldn't make it any larger. His fangs were glistening. There was a soft _shwink_ as RedStorm armed his double bladed staff. Sarge and Mon preferred the path of the firearm.  
Gunshots sounded the start of an epic battle. Sarge pulled up his shotgun, unloading on a few of the dark figures. He then moved into the fray, hitting a few of his foes with the butt of his shotgun. He fought with fury and rage, wanting to get all of his soldiers out of here alive.  
Dark was also in the thick of the fight, his sword burning as it was wielded expertly. It rose and fell, ending the 'lives' of the Shadows. RedStorm nailed a shadow through the chest that had snuck up on Dark. The Panther then flung his knife into the head of one that was about to attack Mon behind his back. It fell over and with one last breath, faded out. It rose into the air, and exploded with a large amount of light. The battle slowed to a halt. Everyone, including the Shadows, looked up to the sky.  
The rust-coloured eye appeared in the place where the recently departed Shadow exploded. It locked onto the Platoon. The Shadows fled from the scene, seemingly running for their lives. This was odd. The eye just stared at them. Something was happening though. A storm was brewing.  
Not a storm… It was something else.


	16. The Dark Side

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N A chapter dedicated to pure COMABT MAYHEM. erhem Now that we are once again civilized, this chapter is solely occupied with direct combat against foes that are far more familiar with our heroes than foes should normally be. A great deal of Dark-uber-carnage lies ahead, so if the Black Panther can make you squeamish, I suggest you eat lunch _after_ reading this chapter. Feel free to read and review. Peace out.)

Chapter 16: The Dark Side

As the eye stared down at the four men, a large, dark force moved towards them. It emerged over the horizon, a dark orb of crackling black and purple energy. Jets of flame broke the surface, spitting out onto the street, slowly taking shape.  
Six figures took shape.  
The one in the middle resembled Sarge, the one to the right of that Dark and so on and so forth. They were exact duplicates of the Platoon members that were there. Stealth and CoolGuy were still out like a light, but there were nevertheless copies of both, two more for the rest of the Platoon to handle. Dark looked upon his copy with a pearly white grin.  
"Oh-ho-ho. _So_ exciting."

The battle began. Dark slashed at his copy, bringing the sword down diagonally towards the Shadow's neck. The blade was deflected and the Panther was flung back. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stealth's copy about to execute the real ninja. Dark swallowed his pride and dashed to the copy. He sent a drop kick to its left knee, causing it to bend inward. He then jumped up with an uppercut, knocking it back a few feet.  
The Shadow stood, popping its leg back into place. If he could see their mouth, Dark was sure there would be a grin on its ugly face. He was so set on saving Stealth that he didn't notice his own duplicate coming at him. A blow to the back of the head sent him sprawling to the ground. He skid a few feet. Looking up, he saw the Stealth duplicate. It brought its sword down towards his neck, but the panther rolled out of the way in time.  
This was insane. The poor copies got on either side of Dark and moved towards him, their swords drawn. Dark stood there. He welcomed their challenge. The blades came at him at the exact same time. He blocked Stealth's while jumping over the other. While he was in the air, he delivered a kick to the Dark-copies' jaw. It fell to the ground. Dark focused in on the Stealth-copy. He attacked it with his fluid motion, the trench coat moving along with him.  
The copy found itself at the mercy of Dark. He was not a very merciful man. He pulled back, and let loose on the shadow, taking off its head. The Shadow dissipated. Dark then felt a sharp pain in his shoulder. His clone had gotten up. It had slashed him in the shoulder. Deep, cardinal-coloured liquid trickled down the Panther's arm. He switched his sword to his left hand and slashed at the copy.  
The blade was deflected, but Dark followed it up with a kick to his foe's jaw. It slammed into the ground, feeling no pain. Dark grabbed it and pulled it to its feet, kneeing it in the gut. He then pulled its head back, placing his blade along the part where its Adam's apple should be, and he slid it across.

RedStorm held his staff over his shoulder, gripping it in the same way he would use a snooker stick. He leaned back, staring his own copy in the eye. Warily he noticed his copy had decided to team up with the Shadow-CoolGuy.  
He slid the spear-like staff forward, daring either of them to come within striking distance.  
The CoolGuy-doppelganger drew his short blade, racing forward. RedStorm growled, forcing his staff forward, scoring a direct blow to the impostor's chest. It burst into flame.  
He swung the staff under his arm and flipped sideways, keeping the blades stretched in his copy's direction. Landing in front of it, the two locked staffs, swinging them out of each other's grasp, before rotating them around their shoulders. There was a loud clang as steel struck steel. Their blades had interlocked. They moved in a circle, locked together like fighting deer whose antlers interlock.

RedStorm could see his copy sweating. He grinned, retracting the blades, the impostor slipping forward with gathered momentum. As he tripped past him, RedStorm armed the staff again and drove the lance-like edge straight through the impostor's lower back. He gave the staff a final twist before drawing it out.

The fight waged on around Sarge. He could see Mon was pinned behind a pillar as his duplicate fired a stream of sizzling hot lead towards him. Somehow though, in all this, Sarge was aware of two entities: himself and the other Sarge.  
He knew it - the other knew it. It was as if everything around them was being 'muted', turned down so to speak. Sarge smirked.  
Sarge smirked.  
"You okay there Rico?"  
"I'm fine Rodriguez." Sarge spat.  
"You're messin' my my boys."  
"I think it's the other way round."  
"You don't know who you're messing with."   
"I actually do..."  
"You?"  
"Me."  
"Me?"   
"You."  
"Confusing isn't it?"  
"No."  
"It should be."  
Sarge made the first move.

sh-CLICK  
**BLAM**

The buck shot tore plaster out of the building above Sarge. Bits of cement rained down through the air in a white Christmas mockery. Sarge stood untouched in the middle.  
"You really gotta work on that aim"  
He charged. He charged...they were interlocked as one.  
Right - right - left - duck - swing - jab - right - roll – forward  
Each blow he delivered he blocked back. Sarge was on the offensive. Sarge was on the defensive. The two moved in time, there battling bodies weaving an incomprehensible pattern.  
The shotgun was fired. Sarge stopped and hit the floor. Sarge rolled and hit the wall. Dark clutched the fallen shotgun in his fingers. The Panther snarled. He pointed the gun.  
"Don't shoot me! I'm the real Sarge! Dark, it's me!"  
Dark laughed and pulled the trigger. Sarge stood up. Sarge slumped against the wall, a bloody mess where he chest used to be.  
"How'd you know?" Sarge asked.  
"I know that you know that I'd never shoot at you."  
"I'm glad you know that; just in case I didn't..."  
"Know what?"   
"HELP!" Mon screamed.  
"I dunno."

Mon had been to battle. He'd fought some of the best. He was a Squirrel who could keep his cool in battle, someone that people could look up to while their lives were in his hands. He had been to hell and back, yet Mon really wasn't prepared when the challenge of fighting himself came up.  
The duplicate went in with his assault rifle blaring, giving Mon enough time to slip behind a pillar.  
Normally, Mon would have taken out his gun or grenade and attacked the enemy randomly while still behind the pillar. That was just the thing; randomly. He could have hit the others.  
The duplicate was still firing at Mon. Suppression fire. Mon just had to wait for the right moment…  
_click  
_For a necessary reload.  
The Medic called on something dear to him that he hadn't used in a long time, his diamond tipped scalpel, 'Shrapnel' as he affectionately called it. He had practised for something like this. He got it out of his sleeve compartment and threw it at the duplicate's head with a flick of his wrist.  
Mon nearly slapped himself and came up with lists of names he had been called over the ages when Shrapnel hit the duplicate's helmet and buried itself in it, unable to penetrate the skull.  
He had no time to react. Cursing his amateur mistake he ducked behind another pillar.  
A familiar ping was heard, followed by a soft ticking, followed by a grenade bouncing off the wall towards Mon.  
He kicked it aside and ducked just as it landed on the base of the first pillar and exploded. There was a deafening crack as the pillar fell backwards, crushing the duplicate beneath it.  
Mon dusted himself off and jerked Shrapnel out of the helmet it had been lodged in.

Left.  
Right.  
Left.  
Right.  
Left.  
Right.  
No. Straight.  
The maze of turns and tunnels seemed to blur by.   
Straight.  
No, or was it left?  
Blaze the Hedgehog shook off the thought, dashing through the city not heeding to the moans and bubbling noises that were spurting up behind him. The path was straight all along, but the Omega meant to confuse him, before he could get Sarge the, terrible, terrible news.  
Light.  
Air.  
Blaze's ears pricked up. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the building and gazed down at the ensuing battle between the 99th and….the 99th?  
"Oh dear…" he said, quietly, looking up at the sky "What have you done?"  
**Merely turning your words against you** Omega said to Blaze alone. **You said at least one of you would survive. No matter which side wins, at least one of you will survive! ** the Omega crowed, laughing at his own brilliance.  
"You sick freak," Blaze spat.  
**No. I'm a Genius!  
**"Wrong. You are a parasite. You have taken over what was a great mind. And you dare call this knowledge your own?"  
**Arrogant fool. If you do not fear me now, you soon shall…**  
A streak of lightening hit the black and purple orb, and another tongue of flame took shape. Blaze knew what was going to happen. He saw his own copy form out of the fire.  
They raced at each other. They began to punch and slam into each other violently, each gathering speed, till at last the others could not see more than two black and red streaks, the occasional white flash signifying a successful hit.  
Having successfully defeated their doppelgangers, the real Platoon snapped out of it first and re-grouped behind a pile of debris.  
"Okay what are we gonna do?" Sarge asked.  
"I thought you were in charge!" Mon yelled back.  
"I don't know everything! Look, we've evened out the scores now...it's the four of us against anything else that comes out of that ball."  
"So what are we looking at?" RedStorm asked.  
"All out assault sound good?" Sarge offered.  
The others nodded their agreement.   
"Okay, Vee formation, we go in strong and fast. If Blaze makes it out he can be back up..."  
"That settles it."  
The black orb began spitting out flames at a desperate rate, trying to amass as large a force as possible.  
"Ready? One...Two...Three."

They ran out guns ablaze.  
The Shadows screeched in pain as round after round tore through their skin. Various clicks of dry ammo. A pause to reload.  
The Shadows were throwing themselves in front of the Platoon in a desperate act of assault. The triangle split to form a line. Weapons were holstered. Flesh struck flesh.  
Spin - kick - jump - dodge - roll - left hook - jab - rabbit punch - spin kick - sweeper - around the world.  
The Shadows were losing. They could no longer keep up the decoy appearances. Their images were starting to deteriorate...  
Sarge dealt a vicious blow to a jaw. The head spun clean off...allowing for a black gas to escape hurriedly into the air...  
The Shadows felt to the ground - hard enough so they would never stand again.

Deep within the inner core the true embodiment of Omega seethed with rage as it watched what were some of its finest creations fall at the hands of the Platoon.  
Still he continued to drain power from FlatFeet's mind, thick tubes running into his enormous chest and back. Hidden under layers of pulsating flesh, sealed away in cocoons that the Omega had made out of his own tissue rested his ultimate bargaining chip.  
He stared at the multiple screens in front of him. He still had the snow-white Hawk and the flame-coloured Cat under his direct control. He had lost track of the Professor and the Tediz defector, but what worried him the most were the blank black screens where images of the one with the black glasses and the ninja should be.  
"This is no place for you," came a voice. The flesh surrounding the Omega began to pulse.  
"What's this? Fear? From you?"  
**Who is this? How did you reach me?  
**"You may have taken control of FlatFeet's mind, but you haven't defended it very well. Duplicates? What a half assed trick."  
The Omega felt a wave of coolness rush through the artificial veins tying him to FlatFeet. It felt strange…he felt…weaker…  
Rumbling he forced FlatFeet back into submission.  
"FlatFeet's still fighting to come out Omega, and I'm going to help him do it, and mark my words, together…" All of the Omega's screens showed a ghost-white Squirrel with pink eyes. "We will destroy you."  
The screens went black.


	17. The Rogue Agent

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N Most of this chapter is dedicated to the most capable and ever creative second in command for the 99th, OO Agent Oreos. Most of this chapter was his creation, save for parts of the final confrontation that were created right now for a little story neatness and continuity. There's really not much more to say. For those interested this chapter officially makes The FlatFeet Saga, otherwise referred to as The Omega Chronicle, the longest fanfic to date, and to think it isn't over yet! If you're still reading it means we haven't bored you to death. If you care to read or review, either are appreciated.)

Chapter 17: The Rogue Agent

Oreos sat there. Still there, leaning against the wall, with his throat dry and his leg still in pain. He dared not to look at it, in fear that the maggots would return. The last thing he remembered was seeing Chael do something to his leg, and that was it.  
Oreos rubbed his chin. He could feel the thick little hairs as if he hasn't shaved for months…  
"Have I even been here for a month? Who cares," he said aloud, his voice raspy, "I'm gonna die in this hellhole anyways."  
**Hey, it's me again…  
**"Leave me alone..." Oreos whined, "I hate you."  
**I helped you, and that's how you treat me?  
**"You didn't help me do ANYTHING! STOP PLAYING WITH MY MIND IT! IT WON'T WORK!"  
**I healed your leg. You should be thankful  
**"Chael did. Not you."  
**Yes I did. You think Chael really has the power to help you? You think anyone in the platoon would even bother to help you? Look at Pyst. He helped you. That's as much as you'll get from them**  
" you. Shut up. I told you already. That stuff won't work on me."  
**Don't lie to yourself Oreos. You hate doing that, don't you remember? Pyst chopped off your leg, Chael left you alone, and the others aren't even bothering to find you**  
"Give them time. They'll find me"  
**In case you're wondering, it's been exactly one month and 3 days  
**"**Liar!**"  
**This is my place. I know how much time passes by; where everybody is, how everything works, and I know that you have no more friends anymore... The platoon has abandoned you. They need to pay  
**"They can't do that to me... they-"  
**They can, and they did. Make them pay**  
"They did... how come they didn't find me... for so long? Why... I'd do the same for them... I would…honest…"  
**Exactly. Make them pay for not caring about you. Teach them a lesson  
**Oreos stood up.  
**That's a good boy. Go on... take that gun. It's your favourite... I know it is**  
He did as he was told, and picked up his K7 Avenger. He rubbed it gently, like a soft cat.  
"They will pay," he growled.

Blaze had just finished off his duplicate.  
"See?" he grinned panting, "Nothing can beat me."  
"Oh yeah?"  
Blaze turned around.  
"Oreos! Where have you been man? We've been looking all over for you!"  
"LIAR!"  
Oreos took out a combat knife, and charged at Blaze, who sidestepped and tripped Oreos.  
"Oreos! What the-- Oh no... DON'T LET IT CONTROL YOU! You can beat Omega!"  
"I'm not being controlled you idiot. You're going to pay for what you did to me!"  
"Huh? What!"  
Oreos threw his knife, and struck Blaze in the leg. Blaze cringed in pain, and yanked the knife out. He took out a pistol and aimed it at Oreos.  
"I don't want to shoot you man..."   
"Then it's time for you to die." Oreos took his K7 which was strapped to his back and-

**BAM**

Blaze had shot Oreos in the shoulder. Oreos fell onto one knee.  
"You !"  
"YOU'RE NOT OREOS ANYMORE!"  
Blaze closed his eyes and gave two more bullets to him in the chest. Oreos fell onto his back. Blaze turned and called out to the others at the far end of the street. They were dealing with the last of the Shadows.  
"My leg... hurts like hell..." Blaze whispered.  
"You shot me..."  
Blaze looked up, and met a rifle's butt in his face. He fell back, and looked Oreos towering over him.  
"I never did anything to you, and you shot me..."  
"Don't...do...it..."  
Oreos stomped on Blaze's wound, making him holler in pain. He then held his K7 high in the air, as if holding a sword and ready to stab something hard. He brought the tip of the K7 down hard and fast on Blaze's face.  
Blaze, of course, could do nothing. Every few seconds he felt the sharp pain in his face, every time it came down...again...and again...and again...  
By the time Oreos was done, the corpse lay there motionless; its face nothing but a bloody mess.  
"There... you've learned your lesson..."

"Who's next...?" the Agent whispered, advancing on his friends.  
Dark's ears perked up, and he jumped into the air. He saw Oreos standing over the bloody Blaze. His eyes burned. How could Oreos do something like that? Dark's violet irises were completely swathed in a milky white fog. He didn't notice it, but Oreos did. The Squirrel staggered back a bit, aiming his K7 at the panther. By the time he even put his finger on the trigger, Dark was at his side.  
Dark slammed his knee into Oreos' leg. The Squirrel immediately dropped to one knee, raising his aim once more. The Panther knocked the K7 away from him, sending a kick to his jaw. Oreos looked up at Dark from his place on the cold street.  
Blade's wounds began to heal rapidly, as if they had never occurred.  
"That prick…" Oreos thought. What had he done to them? Now they were knocking him around. They will all have to be taught a lesson...hard. Oreos managed to control his rage.  
Oreos slowly began to regain his cool-headedness. He now knew that the Omega was just playing with him. He smiled at the Panther.  
"Hey, man, help me up."  
Dark sensed the coolness in Oreos' voice, and he reached down. He grabbed the Squirrel's hand, lifting him to his feet. Dark was smiling. He nodded to Oreos, who nodded back. Seemingly, Oreos' leg began to heal.  
Dark looked to Blaze. He smacked the Hedgehog in the side of the head.  
"Get up!"  
Blaze's eyelids fluttered open and he found himself staring at the one and only Dark. He half-smiled. The Panther helped him to his feet and began to move him towards where Sarge, Mon and RedStorm were trying to wake the unconscious.  
Dark turned his back to Oreos, as he put his paws together to make one joint fist, and slammed it against Dark's head.  
"Stop it! You're stronger than this! You can fight it!" Blaze yelled, still too weak to stand up.   
"You have no right to talk to me."  
Dark got up slowly.  
"What the hell is wrong with him?" Dark growled.  
"Omega," Blaze answered, Oreos eyeing both dangerously. "How can we help him?"  
"I think I know one way…" the Black Panther rumbled.  
Dark threw a fist, but Oreos caught it, and returned the favour. Blaze stood up and tried the same thing, but the Double 0 ducked and gave it to the Hedgehog in the stomach, then tripped him.  
Dark took his fighting stance.  
" I see you've been practising."  
"I'm not a Double O for nothing." He laughed looking at the Panther. "I've always wanted to test my full potential."  
"Bring it!"

Dark tried to punch Oreos, but Oreos blocked with his forearm. The Panther punched the squirrel in the stomach. Furious, Oreos grabbed Dark's arm, pulled him close, and punched his nose three times, than kicked Dark in the stomach, right before grabbing Dark's favourite sword.  
Blaze tried to tackle Oreos, but the corrupted Squirrel lashed wildly at his comrade, and back-kicked him in the head. Oreos approached Dark.  
"Tell me how it feels to killed by your own weapon of choice."  
"If you don't come to your senses I'm going to murder you."  
"It's too bad you can't... I guess you can say the same thing to me...but there are some things worse than death."  
Oreos grinned, but right before he plunged the sword at Dark's throat, a paw grabbed his arm. Oreos looked to his side, and saw the one person who he completely forgot.  
"Flatfeet...?"   
"Hey... did ya miss me?" the Squirrel grinned, pushing his glasses back up his nose.  
Oreos was practically gasping. He dropped the sword.  
"It's really you!"  
"Finally! You made it out! We've been looking for you all over the place!"  
"I'm sorry for pulling you guys into this... Oreos. You should know better. No 99ner would ever turn his or her back on you, would you do the same to them?"  
"... I'm sorry... Dark...Blaze... The Omega is strong"  
"Yeah, yeah... just don't touch my sword again, capische?"  
"Bah, it's all good," Blaze grinned. Suddenly he slapped his forehead. He just remembered that he had to warn Sarge. He ran, a trail of dust behind him.  
Shaking it off Oreos turned to FlatFeet.  
"Alright. You're here, does that mean we've rescued you?"  
"No. Chael helped free my mental projection from the Omeag's grip. I'm here to help you guys."  
"Against what?"  
Suddenly, the ground started shaking.  
", get ready guys, it's finally coming," FlatFeet said, staring at the massive cracks forming in the middle of the street.  
A massive paw reached up from the ground, but pretty soon, the entire body rose from the concrete.  
It was gigantic; it had the form of one of the Komiz, but that was certainly to do with the fact that the virus was programmed that way. It's vein showed from all parts of his body, green and glowing liquid flowing in it. It was three times the size of Dark, the tallest member of the Platoon, and its pulsating red eyes meant it was ready to kill.  
**_ I have no more use for this weak mind; my powers have reached their maximum. Once you've been destroyed I shall stimulate the sedated virus in FlatFeet's bloodstream and be allowed full use of this body's mind and power  
_**"That's what you think face." A flame-coloured feline stepped out of the nearest alleyway. A brilliantly white Hawk and an enraged Tediz followed. With them came the Professor.  
"Sorry we're a little late," WWW growled, staring at the mass of muscle that had risen from the street. "Ricy and I got…caught up."  
There was a flash of white light, and a small silver orb appeared in front of them. A white mist seeped out of it, floating towards Stealth and CoolGuy. At once both sprung to their feet, ready for battle. The silver orb struck FlatFeet in the chest, flooding the Squirrel with a sense of confidence that he hadn't felt since his infection.  
**_What is this! _**the Omega growled, his words causing the crumbled buildings around them to tremble.  
Mon, RedStorm and Sarge walked forwards, with the rejuvenated CoolGuy and Stealth following. At long last there was a golden glow and the same metallic iris that Stealth had seen expanded to reveal Chael, a wide grin on his white muzzle.  
"If you want FlatFeet," Sarge explained, "You're going to have to go through all of us."  
Surprisingly the Omega began laughing. Sarge frowned. The other eyed each other warily, very slowly arming their selves.  
Blaze appeared, as if from no where, panting from overuse of his incredible speed resort.  
"Sarge!"  
The Omega's laughter shook the ground beneath their feet. A bulging sack began to grow out from where the Omega's heart would be. Slowly the flesh-like cocoon began to reveal the Squirrel trapped within. Sarge's eyes went wide.  
"Sarge…" Blaze gasped, "He's got **Deja!**"


	18. A Heart of Darkness

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N As the Saga draws to a close and the action begins to reach a climactic point the number of battles increase. All I have to say is a small note to the Platoon: You each gave so much information in these final battle scenes and I've tried my best to include as much as possible, but there are a large number of scenes that didn't make the final cut, and so I ask your forgiveness for using my editing liberty. To the average reader I apologize if this and the following chapter feel like a bombardment of plot, but I suggest you give it a try. It's hard to swallow in one go, so the action is divided into parts, hopefully making comprehension easier.)

Chapter 18: A Heart of Darkness

"It has come...It is time..." The Professor walked right up to the pulsating Omega. "I command you! Out! Leave the vessel satanic creation of a twisted mind! I compel you! **OUT!**"  
**_You fool. What do you think this is?  
_**In one swift motion Omega's gigantic hand flashed out and snapped the Professor in two.  
"Holy!" someone cried.  
"He was the only one who knew what to do!"  
"How the hell are we gonna explain this one to the Agency?"  
"How do we get Deja back!" "  
As far as I'm concerned there's only one way to end this." Sarge loaded two cartridges into the shotgun chamber. He snapped the weapon shut.  
"We fight."  
Sarge's right eye was twitching...a sure sign that a battle was soon to follow.  
Dark flexed his palms grabbing a firm grip of his blade. He rolled his head around the base of his neck. Several cracks were heard.  
Oreos was staring at Sarge looking for the cue. He noticed the twitch. He dropped the Avenger's safety.  
Blaze twirled his combat knife in his fingers at warp speed. All that was visible was a silver blur. He was nervous.  
FlatFeet looked at Omega.  
"I'm gonna enjoy this . Get ready for an ass whooping."

_The darkness was cold, quiet, and almost soothing. It felt like floating in eternity, no time, no worries. Nothing mattered, not in here, or anywhere. Shadows within the dark, swirled around softly. They came closer, they felt soft to the touch, warm, comforting. Friends, family, comrades in arms... all seemed to melt away from existence...  
"Get up!"_  
Pyst's eyes popped open; he could see nothing but darkness. He seemed to laying on his back.  
"_Get up!"_ A quiet yet familiar voice said again.  
"Why?"  
"_Why not?"_  
Pyst stood to his feet. His entire body ached.  
"Who are you?" he asked into the darkness.  
"_You remember, don't you?"_  
Pyst reached into the dark, searching for the voice.  
"_Or has all the killing clouded your memory?"_  
"I still remember..." He recognized the voice almost at once, it belonged to someone he knew before the Platoon, even before the Army.  
"Are you really here? Or is this just in my head?"  
"_I'm just here to guide you back to your friends." _  
"My team? Are they ok?"  
"_They're about to fight the Omega, they could use your help." _  
"Fine, how do I get out of here?"  
"_You're not even here, you're with your friends right now." _  
"I see." He paused. "Will I see you again, or at least hear you again?"  
"_I'm not even here Rick, I'm just in your head." _  
"Well are you still alive in the real world? I mean, I never saw you again after the... accident..."  
"_Find out when you get out. Right now you have a job to do. All you have to do is turn round."_  
Pyst heard noise behind him, but paused.  
"Dad?" he said quietly, "I really do miss you man."  
He turned around and instantly he spotted the entire Platoon, getting ready to engage with the behemoth Omega. Pyst gripped his trusty M-249 machine gun and felt a grin creep slowly across his face.  
"That' right! I'M BACK! SAVE SOME ASS KICKING FOR ME GUYS!"Blaze was spinning the knife furiously now. His fringe was being whipped around in the vortex of air...  
Everyone watched on mesmerised. It was going to be the signal...but when?

fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw- fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw- fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw- fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-fw-  
**fa-WING **

The knife flew from Blaze's fingers faster than a speeding bullet. It tore straight through the air landing squarely in Omega's chest.  
It had begun.  
Sarge shot straight at Omega's large, vulnerable eyes.  
The individual shrapnel cartridges tore through the air...and began slowing down. By the time they reached Omega they had stopped - they were hanging in mid air.  
**_I am still in control here you fool...you can't harm me unless I want let you to  
_**"I don't think so," Sarge smirked. "FlatFeet! Chael! **Now!**"  
Chael gripped FlatFeet's hand tightly by the elbow. The two closed their eyes...concentrating.  
Sarge chewed his lower lip...it had to work.

**ker-BLAM **

_YaaAAaaAaaaRRRrrrRRgGgGGG! _

The bullets had picked up speed again and launched themselves directly into Omega's left eye. The great entity bellowed.  
**_HOW!  
_**"It's simple. They're smarter than you..." he laughed. "It's harder than it looks isn't it? Now hand over Deja."  
**_NEVER!  
_**"Fine."  
Sarge dropped his arm.  
"**LET'S TAKE OUT THE TRASH!**"

_-Meanwhile back at Head Quarters-_  
"Holy sh-!"  
The unfortunate guard reached for his radio.  
"We are under a-"

_pipf! pipf! pipf pipf!_

The Tediz invading HQ trooped past.  
Level Alpha was breached.  
"Come in level Alpha! What was that? Repeat previous message...Holy M-"  
They fired. He was dead. His eyeball was used to open the retina doors.  
Level Beta was breached.  
The soldiers lined up outside the pressure room. This was the tough one. It would take them longer to pass the vacuum...

_-Inside the Lair-_  
FlatFeet blinked. He was alone. Then he saw the Omega shrinking down to a normal size, but the image was transparent and divided, as if it were many T.V. screens showing the same channel.  
"I see what you're doing. You're fighting us all individually, yet together. Trying to pick us off all at once, but all in different places. So," said FlatFeet, loading his assault rifle "I'd better go get this over with."

**Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans**

**_You think you can actually destroy me? When I took over your mind so easily?_** said the Omega **_Oh, you must be thinking that you let me into your mind voluntarily, but you did not expect the effects to be so overwhelming, did you? You did not expect the urge for revenge…  
_**"Revenge for what?"  
**_You truly don't know? I must have corrupted you more than I thought._**  
FlatFeet suddenly reeled, his head being flooded with images of a Komiz – Omega infected Komiz, brutally killing his wife. FlatFeet cried out in anguish.  
**_So, you finally know the truth. An earlier version of my Progenitor, before the Tediz degraded me and locked me in their labs, infected a soldier and killed your wife. All part of my plan to place you under my control  
_**"It was you…" FlatFeet said with rage. "You…killed the only love in my life, all because of you. You killed her! My wife!" he screamed, and rushed at the Omega. His body began changing as the need for vengeance and wrath flooded him once again. His arms grew long and large, with wrists as thick as tree trunks. The mutation occurred all at once, leaving his mental projection as a replica of the beast he was while on a rampage. The Omega reached out to attack, but felt FlatFeet's massive hand grab his neck and tear his head off of his body.  
FlatFeet stopped, gasping. Slowly he melted back into his normal form, his shirt in tatters around him. He stared as one of the screens went blank.  
"Once we have all defeated our own inner Omega…we shall all be free…"

**Thomas "WWW" Warclat**

"_Once we have all defeated our own inner Omega…we shall all be free…"_  
WWW could hear FlatFeet's voice, as if it was far away.  
**_#987…comrade…I am not finished with you yet…  
_**"I'm no comrade of yours. I faced that demon a long time ago."  
**_Ah ye, your dream, your Tediz Commander. He wasn't as dead as you thought he was, was he?  
_**"How do you know of that?"  
**_It's all in your head. Do you realize what you were #987? You were the prototype of a more intelligent Tediz, but with it came something no other Tediz had. Your intelligence is the reason for your compassion  
_**"Your virus wasn't even created when I was. What are you talking about?"  
**_You don't understand who I am #987. As a virus, I am programmed to remember anything I encounter. This is the latest most complete version, but I was being cultivated…and learning…long before you, or Evans met me. I am an intelligent survivor  
_**"A parasite."  
**_A difference of opinions_**  
"So you've been around…"  
**_For a very long time. All my infected victims are chosen for a purpose. The Tediz managed to find me and contain me, hoping to refine me to suit their needs. Luckily for me, you 99th Buffoons let me loose_**  
"You know what? That's enough chitchat."  
The Omega lunged at WWW. The Tediz swerved and fired directly beneath the Omega's chin.

**00-Oreos : "Chael" : Blaze S. Reinhart**

Oreos, Chael and Blaze found their selves in what looked like an abandoned city when they heard Flatfeet's message. Moments later they were surrounded by growling and drooling Komiz.  
A Komiz jumped at Blaze. He sidestepped and rammed its head into the ground. Another jumped and this time Oreos kicked it, sending it soaring into a building. Two more attacked. He caught their heads in his hands and smashed them against a wall. More Komiz began to surround him. Blaze grabb them by the shoulders, throwing them to the ground.  
"You forget that I've learnt the rules to operating in here Omega," Chael said, staying away from the Komiz throng. Recognising that he was the real threat, the real Omega formed in front of Chael hissing.  
"You incompetent bastard, I've shown you before you're no match for me, yet you still send yourself to the slaughter. You're bothersome."  
Chael closed his eyes, focusing. He formed the mental image in his mind as he heard Omega approaching.  
Screaming, his eyes wide open a bright white light burst forth from Chael, enveloping everything in its path. Blaze and Oreos shielded their eyes as the chilling white light engulfed them, the screams of the Omega ringing in their ears, till at last nothing could be heard but silence.  
Chael, exhausted, fell to one knee.


	19. A Fatal Mistake

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N The Platoon continues its group, but individual, assault against Omega, attempting to destroy him whilst he's spread himself out among them. Kudos for the final scene of this chapter must go to the ace film "Fallen" starring Denzel Washington, John Goodman and Greece's own Elias Koteas. If you haven't watched this incredibly chilling para-psychological thriller, you're missing out. Anyhow, that's the reference that follows at the end, if any one is wondering. See! See! It's not plagiarism… cough I think I'll be fetching my lawyer…just in case! In the meantime, feel free to read and review.)

Chapter 19: A Fatal Mistake

The door to section Gamma had just finished being welded apart. Three strong Komiz's lifted the door and hauled it away. The reaction was instantaneous. The soldiers were sucked into the vacuum that was suddenly filling with air. They were smacked hard against the door at the end of section Gamma. The door blew open. The rest of the troops, unharmed, went in through the door.  
The Lift Operator, a handsome young Squirrel, had heard the gunshots and heard the radio. He acted fast and swiftly. He shot a hole in the Lift's floor and slid down the shaft to the 99th floor. He pressed the lift doors apart and scrambled inside...He could hear noises from above.  
He saw the four Squirrels that had been left behind to guard the 99th while they were conducting the Experiment.  
Twisted and Snickers stood up. They understood.  
Squeaky whipped out his flamethrower, his welder's goggles sliding down over his eyes. Eric Cartman grinned.  
"You get inside kid, and when the others wake up, get 'em out here to join us."  
Tail twitching through the air like mad the Lift Operator ran for C-Branch...

**Renato "DaMedic" Mon : "DarkFlame"**

Mon heard FlatFeet's words as he found himself face to face with Dark. He seemed to be madly attacking the air around him.  
Mon approached Dark with caution. He knew well enough not mess with him when he was pissed.  
The Omega was using a different approach on these two.  
To Dark, he belived he was fighting his way through a sea of Tediz, working towards their leader, standing away at the back.  
"Hey...Dark? You okay...or something?" the leader asked in Mon's voice, but Dark's mind was clouded. Dark didn't understand, nor cared.  
Mon could tell something was wrong. He started backing away. Dark looked insanely at him. He kept 'fighting' his way towards Mon.  
"Hey Dark, calm down...here..."  
Mon backed against the wall. Dark was getting closer.  
Finally, he was within arm's reach of the Tediz. He grabbed him by his neck and pinned him against the wall. Dark didn't look like he was exerting himself but the Tediz was having difficulty breathing anyways.  
Mon tried to inform Dark that he was strangling him, the real Mon, but he barely managed a whimper before starting to turn blue.  
Dark could hear the Tediz laughing at him as he strangled their Leader. He looked back at the crowd. The images of multiple laughing Tediz began to merge into a single vision…of the Omega.  
Dark's head whipped back to the Tediz leader and he saw Mon's struggling visage.  
"What the !"  
He let the Medic drop to the ground.  
**_NO!_** the Omega gasped. It's illusion broken, it scattered in a burst of flame.

**Kenny "CoolGuy" Johnson : Stealth Levasseur**

Stealth drew his sword out of its sheath with a slow and deliberate motion. CoolGuy, standing next to him withdrew his shorter, yet still deadly, Shaolin blade.  
The Omega stared at them both and laughed, drawing dual blades. He swung them once to assume his grip, and then grinned menacingly.  
Stealth attacked first, swinging the blade in an arc above his head, as CoolGuy stepped sideways, coming in low and from an angle. The Omega spun round, blocking Stealth's blow with the flat of his blade, dragging the blade downwards, before addressing CoolGuy with his second sword, the clang of metal against metal audible.  
Stealth leapt into the air, flipping over and landing behind the Omega as CoolGuy dove at Omega's legs, keeping his blade in a defensive grasp. The Omega growled as he was forced to spin round and block Stealth with both swords as he felt CoolGuy's blade bite deep into the back of his knee.  
CoolGuy screamed in pain as the blade glowed red hot, forcing him to withdraw.  
The Omega leaned sideways, his wound slowing him down. Stealth dodged a weak attempt, rolling to the side, before pinning the Omega in the side of his hip.  
The Omega roared in pain as CoolGuy found the strength to ram his own blade deep into Omega's chest, before Stealth slid to his feet, assumed a stance known only to him, and decapitated the Omega with one fluid motion.

"**Ajax FireBorn" : "Ricy" : "RedStorm"**

"Bit crowded here ain't it?" Ajax sniffed. The three stood back to back, Ricy unfurling his wings nervously, RedStorm arming his staff.  
As if on cue, the Omega arrived.  
**_Fools. You can't defeat me, for I know all about you. I know your secret Andrew Jackson McGregor_**  
Ajax snarled.  
**_Yes. I know what you dare not share with anyone else, your darkest secret that has haunted you for the longest time  
_**He kept his distance, keeping his hands behind his back.  
**_And you Miles Crowell. I've seen it in your mind. You shall leave your friends. No matter how many times you swear you shall stand by them, I can see it within you; you do not have the strength left to remain _**Omega paused.  
**_And the bird, my favourite of the three. You indulge yourself in food, and lewd comedy to hide your own fear and ineptness. You're useless; weak – and you always will be  
_**"That's it," RedStorm roared. "Let's get this !"  
RedStorm hurled his staff like a javelin directly at the Omega, whilst Ajax flicked his lucky lighter open, spraying a blast of pyro at the Omega's face. Ricy flapped his wings, launching into the air, before he came down, his claws outstretched, and tore the Omega's face open.

**Rick "Pyst" Gores**

Each man was engaged with his own Omega copies or nightmares. Pyst lost track of his mates, and had wondered into some kind of a field. A windmill stood in the middle of the field. Pyst entered the tower, machine gun ready. It was quiet, too quiet... he could feel eyes watching him as he slipped in. A single flickering light bulb lit the windmill's interior. Pyst cautiously crept around; he scanned carefully for any hostiles.  
Something moved.  
Pyst snapped to his left, his rifle ready. He stared into the eyes of the most disgusting and twisted being he had ever seen: himself.  
It was a mirror.  
Pyst approached the mirror; he cleaned some gunk out of his teeth.  
"Thats a nice reflection..." he said, examining himself in the mirror. Suddenly the reflection leapt forward and knocked Pyst's rifle out his hands.  
"**Thank you!**"  
"!"  
Pyst punched the Omega in the face. The Omega punched Pyst in the jaw. Pyst kicked the Omega in the gut. The Omega grabbed Pyst by the arm and swung him around. He flew across the room and crashed into a wall.  
"**You can't beat me, wanna know why?**"  
Pyst got to his feet.  
"**Cause you're a goodie little two-shoes Pyst!**"  
The Omega punched Pyst in the stomach. Pyst spat blood.  
"**Goodie-little-two-shoes!**" the Omega sung, before kicking Pyst's knee cap.  
"**Goodie-little-two-shoes!**" The Omega kneed Pyst in the groin.  
"**Goodie-little-two-shoes!**"  
Pyst grabbed his 12-gauge Shot-pistol and shoved it the Omega's face.  
"**Uh oh.**"

**KA-BLAM!**

The Omega Pyst went flying.  
"Good... bad... it doesn't matter... I'm the guy with the gun!" Pyst cackled. The Omega managed to sit up.  
"**NOTHING CAN SAVE YOU! NOT EVEN DEATH!**"  
Pyst walked over to the Omega.  
"Hey, you got something on your face!"  
"**Huh?**"

**KA-BLAM!**

**Rico "Sarge" Rodriguez**

**_You seem to do well when dealing with yourself. Let's see you deal with...your men.  
_**The Omega shrunk down...down...dwindled in size to be almost at Sarge's height. Then, in a short burst of white light, the Omega split...split again. They were everywhere.  
Omega laughed.  
Omega smiled.  
Omega cackled.  
Omega grinned.  
Omega spat.  
Omega...sang?  
That's right...he sang.

**_Tiiiiiii-ime. Is on my siiiii-ide. Oh, yes it is! Oh, yes it iiiiis!_**

It was an old song, Sarge had heard it a long, long time ago. Sarge's eye started twitching again. He didn't like this unnecessary isolation.  
"What the?"  
Omega became Mon.  
Omega became Pyst.  
Omega became Dark.  
Omega became Deja.  
Omega became Oreos.  
Omega became Stealth.

"What the devil?"

"Who is it Sarge?" Deja asked him. She slapped Pyst on the shoulder.  
"He really can't tell can he Pyst?" Dark bared his fangs.  
"Yep," Pyst replied "We got him good now."  
"You don't get it do you Sarge? It's simple really...but there are so many wrong guesses you could make. I'd hate for you to shoot...the wrong person, right Mon?" asked Oreos.  
"That would be quite unpleasant for him wouldn't it?""There are too many...I-I can't guess..."

"That's right Sarge...here. Just to help you out 'cause we're family..." Deja closed her eyes... "Tiiiiiii-ime."  
"Is on my siiiii-ide." said Dark.  
Sarge understood. Omega would keep shifting the body he was hiding in. If Sarge failed to hit the Omega he would most definitely kill one of his own men.  
"Oh, yes it is!" Pyst.  
"Oh, yes it iiiiis!" Stealth.  
"Tiiiiiii-ime." Oreos.  
"Is on my siiiii-ide." Mon.  
"Oh, yes it is!"   
"Oh, yes it iiiiis!"

"Stop it!" Sarge roared. "**Stop it!**"

"Oh, yes it is!"  
"Oh, yes it iiiiis!"

"**Dammit! Shut up! Shut up all of you!**"

"Oh, yes it is!"  
"Oh, yes it iiiiis!"

**ker-BLAM**

The shotgun smoked from the barrel. Deja slumped down onto her knees clutching her stomach.  
"You...you shot me!"  
"Yeah. So I guessed right huh?"  
She fell unconscious. Sarge came out of the black void Omega had sucked him into. Oreos ran close to Sarge.   
"Sarge!"  
"What!"  
Oreos leaned in close to Sarge's ear.  
"_Tiiiiiiime. Is on my side…_"  
Sarge's eyes snapped wide open. He looked down and saw Deja, released from the Omega's cocoon, bleeding on the ground. He looked to where Oreos was. All that was left was a burning Omega on the pavement.  
Sarge screamed in anger and frustration...

**_Like I said Rico. Tiiiiiii-ime! Is on my siiiii-ide. Oh, yes it is! Oh, yes it iiiiis!_**


	20. Insanity Prevails

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N Ladies and gentlemen, for a once in a lifetime performance I give you…Dark! The sadistic Panther with an attitude! While the following scenes try and focus on Sarge and Deja, for some reason it appeared that the scene wouldn't be long enough without Dark getting one last gore-fest fistfight. So, without further delay, I warn you that this is one of the few chapters to contain a, wait for it: a _complete and unedited_ Dark scene. Due to the nature of these graphic images I- You know what? Screw it. If you didn't want graphic images along with a fair amount of swearing, you wouldn't be here in the first place. Enjoy!)

Chapter 20: Insanity Prevails

"She…she's bleeding! Help!" his voice was trembling. His tail was twitching in the air. "Help…" he whispered… "I-I shot her…help! Medic!" Sarge looked around him.  
The illusion was fading. The Omega symbols were becoming less and less obvious. But the one left by "Oreos" still burned intensely bright. Sarge scooped up the bleeding bundle of fur and dashed off down the road.  
"Medic! MEDIC! Mon! **MEDIC!**"  
Sarge had been walking around the twisted crevices and streets…he paused and looked at a distinct rock. It was shaped like a fist almost. He ran on.

"I…I'm sorry Mon…" Dark gasped, helping the Medic to his feet, "It - he, it's strong still…but we're winning…we're nearly done. Where are the others?"  
**_Done? You call losing done?  
_**Dark looked up at the eye hovering above him. He snarled.  
"Who's losing you dumb ass?"  
The eye thinned.  
**_How about that Rodriguez?  
_**"Sarge?"  
The eye rolled up into nothingness as the Omega's sinister laughter could be heard.

Sarge paused again to get his bearings. He surveyed the landscape…the same grey streets, rust coloured sky and monolithic buildings…and that fist shaped roc-  
"**GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!**" he screamed in frustration. He had been going round in circles. Deja's blood flowed and stained his hands.  
Sarge closed his eyes, then opened them to find Dark and the now upright Mon. They both looked at Deja. Mon's eyes went wide.  
"What happened?" Mon asked quickly running forward.  
"I shot her…" came Sarge's reply.  
Mon's blood ran cold in his veins.  
"You…you what!"  
"I shot her."  
Dark roared.  
"Get the hell away from her!" the Panther cried, snatching the limp body from Sarge's flailing grasp. "How the…Sarge! How could you!"   
"What do you mean? I tried to kill Omega, so I shot-"  
"Sarge! Listen to yourself! You've lost it!" Mon backed off, tapping Dark on the shoulder. Dark looked at Sarge with utter disgust.  
"I…" Sarge's mind was reeling, "I mean, he…it's so confusing…in my brain…Oreos, Stealth, you, Dark, Deja….a shotgun…a choice…the song! The song! Time is on my side!" Sarge was gripping his head. He was babbling, speaking in a high-pitched tone.  
Dark and Mon moved further and further away…  
"Sarge," said Mon, "I promise we'll help you…but you're sick…you've gone very, very ill…just…just stay away…"  
Sarge sank to his knees. His eyes had glazed over.  
"Time! Time! No time! It's his! Time is his! Time Time Time!"  
Dark and Mon ran, not looking back the entire way. Sarge made a movement as if to rise.  
"**NO! I'm not crazy! I shot her but I'm not crazy! No! NO! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy! I'm not crazy!**" he fell to his face. Sarge was trembling.  
"_I'm not crazy…I promise I'm not…"  
_He paused.  
"_Or am I?"_

Dark looked down at Deja. He then looked back at Sarge. So many thoughts ravaged his mind. He couldn't decide if he should just leave his Captain…his friend. He didn't know.  
Omega apparently decided to make the choice for him.  
A much larger, stronger Dark jumped out from the shadows to his left. The Omega, tapping strength now from Sarge's mind, was trying one last move to regain control of the situation. He grinned at Dark. Omega eyed what the Panther held in his arms. He already knew about Deja. He also knew that Dark would sacrifice himself to protect her. A grin spread over Omega's face.  
Dark stopped, looking over at Mon. He looked into the Medic's eyes. He then nodded to him and handed Deja to him. Mon nodded back to Dark, and turned, running, with Deja in his arms.   
He knew now what he had to do. No matter what happened to Dark, he had to get Deja out. Once Mon and Deja were far enough away, Dark turned to Omega. He snarled, removing his trench coat. Veins in his arms pumped. His eyes were glowing a misty white. He meant business.  
Omega was the first to attack. He swung at the Panther and obviously caught him off guard. His fist slammed into Dark's jaw, sending him back a few feet. Dark, however, managed to do a full back flip, landing on his feet. He wiped a little blood from his lip, and smirked. He then dashed at Omega, attempting a roundhouse. He didn't land it. The copy was too quick. It was much more enhanced than the others. It sidestepped the attack, and easily backhanded Dark into the side of one of the buildings. When the Panther hit the wall, his head jerked back violently. He was dazed. He had never been the under dog, but he was now.

Dark forced himself to stand up; his fangs shimmered in the dim light. He then began to circle Omega, holding his right hand on his own ribs.They had been injured when he was hurtled towards the nearby wall. A large portion of the wall was jutting out, and it had speared his rib cage. It hadn't gone through, but had broken at least two ribs. The pain was nothing the Panther couldn't handle, though. For some reason, he wasn't mad. He fought best when he was mad. His anger had diminished towards Omega. It was channelled more at Sarge now and what he had done to Deja. He couldn't change that, either. The situation was far too weird.  
Dark was then jarred back to reality when Omega came flying at him. He ducked under the kick, which would've probably taken his head off, and jumped up behind his foe. He then delivered a blow to Omega's spine. The Panther had landed the first blow. Now, he had to connect with the rest of his attacks. He ducked yet another shot aimed at his head, and performed a sweep kick. Omega, however, saw this coming. It jumped into the air, kicking Dark in the head, and back flipping a few feet away. There was a huge grin on its face, now.

Dark looked at Omega. He saw Sarge still back there, sulking. The Panther's anger began to diminish towards Sarge. He then channelled it towards Omega. The one who had taken over Dark's friend's mind. The one who had _tricked_ Sarge into shooting Deja. It wasn't Sarge's fault at all. It was all because of _him_.  
Omega could see it in Dark's eyes that he was angered. He backed up a few steps, knowing if he made a wrong move, the Panther would unleash everything. He just had to keep cool.  
Dark then grinned.  
The Panther was beside Omega before the virus even knew it. He slammed his elbow into Omega's ribs, and jumped into the air, slamming his boot into the area where the nose would be on any other creature. Omega slammed into the hard ground, its head cracking off the concrete. A black liquid oozed from the open wound on the back of its cranium. It was being out-manoeuvred! Dark reached down, grabbing its fur. He pulled it to its feet and slammed his right fist into its jaw. It staggered back a few feet. The tide had turned.

The Panther then ducked a right hook from his foe, and came up with a fierce uppercut. The blow connected with Omega's jaw, sending him about five feet off the ground. Dark unsheathed his sword. He slashed at Omega, but suddenly, the blade turned white hot. The Panther dropped it. The sword shattered on the ground.  
"What the hell!" Dark yelled. Omega stood up, laughing. Dark then spotted what he had to do. He smiled.  
"**_What are you smiling about, weakling?_**" Omega roared. He then grabbed Dark by the collar of his shirt and lifted him into the air. The Panther just stared at him. It was a cold, dead stare. Then, a smirk began to break out on Dark's face. It was one of those, 'You just did me a favour,' smirks. Dark pulled up his knees, slamming them into Omega's face.  
He was loose.  
He dropped to the ground, landing on his feet. The Omega jumped into the air. Dark jumped up also, only higher than his opponent. He kicked Omega's foot down, and delivered another harsh kick to Omega's chest, this time, with both feet. He used all the strength in his legs, sending Omega back onto a sharp pole sticking out from one of the abandoned buildings. The same black liquid flowed from this wound, only a lot more. The viral being began to brighten. It exploded in a huge flash of light.  
Dark fell to one knee, and then collapsed. He had exerted himself. He had nearly no strength left. His pulse had dropped. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. He lay there, beside the pieces of his shattered sword. If he was going to die, he had done it at the right time. For the right cause: To save a friend.

WWW, FlatFeet and Blaze stood looking at the fading city of Omega. With a wave of his paw FlatFeet brought up the screens Omega had used to spy on them. Only Sarge's remained active. The rest had succeeded in defeating the virus.  
"Omega is weak, you know," FlatFeet said.  
"How weak?" WWW asked.  
"Almost gone. Only Sarge lost to him."  
"So how do we beat Omega?" Blaze asked.  
"Sarge has to fight and win. Otherwise Omega will never fully release his hold."  
"From the looks of things, Sarge is just about crazy, you know. That's gonna be a problem."  
"No Blaze, that's our solution,"  
"You're not making very much sense, FlatFeet," WWW sighed.  
"Sarge has to win?" Blaze repeated. "But…I mean…" WWW finished it.  
"He's gone insane."  
"Check this out." FlatFeet pointed at the Omega signs, at the maze-like city. Everything was fading. Collapsing. Save for the one bloodstained hill where the Omega fortified itself. From their vantage point the three men could see the other 99ers reappearing through out the collapsing city.  
"As long as Sarge can't defeat the Omega's presence I'm afraid it will always have a grip somewhere." FlatFeet looked out towards the lost, stumbling, babbling Squirrel. "He has to win. Whatever the cost…"

**_Rico…  
_**Mocking…taunting.  
"Go away…" Sarge mumbled.  
**_Why Rico? I'm your friend remember  
_**"GO AWAY!"  
**_Stupid Rico…Stupid, stupid Rico! Stupid Squirrel! Can't tell one from Another  
_**"I-I didn't have time…" he stammered.  
A thoughtful "hmmm"  
**_That's right I suppose…I had it all  
_**Omega placed a hand on Sarge's shoulder.  
**_Let me join you…I have it…I have it all…We could have it, together  
_**Sarge's thoughts were elsewhere.  
He was remembering.

_In a drawer in his untidy little room Sarge keeps a photo. It's black and white and starting to deteriorate around the edges. It shows a young Squirrel lad holding a tiny bundle of fur in his arms.  
Rico – Dana.  
"Meet your cousin," they had said as they placed her in his arms. "Meet Dana."_

The next twenty years flooded Sarge's subconscious. It all came back to him.  
He knew.  
Something had made him snap. And it was the same thing that made his hand lash out and grab the Omega by its neck.  
Omega reacted violently and instantly, kicking Sarge against a crumbling wall. Sarge slumped to the ground. Omega, laughing wildly, sat on Sarge's chest, pinning his arms to the ground  
Sarge roared in anger as the Omega drew Sarge's own combat knife from its sheath. As he went to bring it down and slice through Sarge's chest Sarge acted on an impulse.  
He leaned forward and clamped down with his teeth.  
The Omega gurgled as Sarge tore at its jugular like a dog. Blood streamed down Sarge's face, staining his fur a green-black. The Omega still sat on Sarge, writhing in pain and agony as it felt its life flooding away. Sarge could taste the vile, choler like, blood. He let the Omega go.  
His left eye was twitching. The Omega teetered on Sarge, looking into his eyes.

"Never…mess…with an insane…Squirrel…" Sarge spat, blood running through his teeth.  
The Omega tried to mumble something… It looked to its crimson sky. Everything was dissolving…melting away like a bad dream.  
**_We're not that different you and I Rico…  
_**The dissolving started at Omega's feet and worked its way up.  
**_Destructive when necessary, when necessary to survive…  
_**Sarge said nothing. The Omega was breaking away into little fragments that burned up in the air.  
**_True, I am a virus, but we work the same way.  
_**It was nearly over.  
**_Rico…it was an interesting day…pleasure to meet you.  
_**A single mouth suspended in mid air.  
**_Au revoir Rico Rodriguez.  
_**"I don't think so…"  
It was gon-


	21. One Last Stand

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N Back in the real world things start to heat up as we rapidly approach the end of the longest novel to date at a whopping 23 chapters. Not much more to say, I hope you've enjoyed everything and thank you for taking the time to read our work.)

Chapter 21: One Last Stand

"_GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"  
_The electronic probes attached to Sarge blew off with a pressurized hiss. He woke up screaming in full sweat. Trembling all over he tore off the cables keeping him connected to the machine. He barely had time to breathe when the door to C-Lab blew open.  
"**CODE OMEGA! CODE OMEGA!**" It was the Lift Operator, a handsome Squirrel by the name of Sergio Pernandez. He nursed his bleeding hands. Rope burn had torn them to bloody ribbons.  
Code Omega, Sarge though - the call for the "last stand".  
Meaning security was breached.  
Meaning they were in deep .

The next thing Dark knew was that he was sitting down, staring up at the ceiling. His vision was blurred, and his hearing was horrid. There was a slight ringing in his ears. He heard a slight hiss, and he was free. He cleared the rest of the straps and probes off of him and looked to the lift shaft. He could see a blurry figure standing there. His hands were crimson. Must've been the Lift Operator.  
He was yelling something. Dark could barely hear it. Then, it slowly donned on the Panther what was happening. His hearing and sight adjusted just in time to hear the Lift Operator yell it one more time. Dark growled and looked to Sarge. He nodded with a grin. It was time. The Panther reached to his side and grabbed his sword. He grabbed it and threw off his trench coat, revealing the steel black scabbard on his back. He sheathed his sword, and snickered.

Oreos' eyes flickered open. The Squirrel sat up and looked around. One by one they were slowly starting to recover.  
He looked at the still body of the Professor, the flat green line showing his heartbeat reminding Oreos of the partial failure of the mission. Oreos ripped the wires off his forehead, arms, and chest. He felt dizzy and weak.  
"Damn, I haven't felt like this since Pyst's birthday party..."  
But, there was no time to lose. The entire room shook. Dust fell from the ceiling. The Tediz finally arrived. Oreos walked out of the room, made a left towards the weapons cache. Upon arrival, he kicked the door open. The Squirrel calmly walked in, flicked the lights open, and his knees instantly grew weak.  
"Oh baby..."  
He looked around him. Looks like the 99th platoon finally got some decent funding. A large room with guns neatly place on tables in the middle, and rifles, pistols, explosives all hanging on the walls, waiting to be used.  
A bit dissatisfied with the fact that the K7 Avenger was not here, Oreos shrugged it off and took a look at the new weapons. He stocked him self with 2 Luger Pistols, tucked neatly in his belt, a Tactical 12-Gauge strapped behind his back, and finally a SBP90 Submachine gun.  
"Let''s get it on."

As Omega was removed from FlatFeet's mind, he woke up back in the containment tube. He summed up enough of his sapped strength to break the glass, and he flopped to the ground, the stasis liquid sloshing in a pool around him. He heard the sirens of Code Omega being sounded. He didn't really care. He drifted off into unconsciousness.

"Shouldn't we help him?" asked Oreos.  
"Leave him be," answered Sarge, "He's been through a lot, let him rest."  
RedStorm shook his head as he got up; the Squirrel quickly regained his senses. Grabbing an M-9 he placed it in a strap on his thigh. Lastly he took his favourite rifle the M-16 Assault Rifle and loaded it up. Nodding to himself, he looked at Sarge and the others.  
"Tediz...lets rock!"  
Sarge grinned as more and more pneumatic hisses were heard. Very soon Pyst was cackling, clutching his _real_ minigun, Blaze was cracking his knuckles, Chael had loaded a sniper and donned his wrap-round shades, Ajax burned the bottom of his paw with his lighter, Stealth swung his sword, getting used to its weight, while Ricy and WWW loaded ammo clips into assault rifles.  
There was a soft thud behind them. CoolGuy had pounded his palm with his fist. His brass knuckles were in place, his gift sword hanging loosely at his waist.  
"You didn't seriously think I'd let you go without me did you?" the Venezuelan grinned. Sarge nodded, facing Sergio.  
"Take care of the others as they come out. Are the rest of the 99th on the surface?"  
"Twisted, Squeaky, Cartman and Snickers left here as soon as I got the message to them."  
"You heard that boys… Our men are up there, and they need our help. Now."

Mon looked around him. The city was crumbling. The sky was disappearing. Omega had lost.  
But Mon wouldn't leave. He still had a job to do. Deja was wounded. Not in her body, but this was her mind. If he didn't cure her now, she would probably go insane He laid Deja down and began to work, the buildings and sky evaporating around him.  
Mon wiped sweat form his forehead and looked at Deja. He figured she was good enough now.  
"Girl, you sure had it rough this time 'round."  
True. He gently flipped her over and slightly lifted her shirt. He was glad to see that the kidney wound had now turned into a small scar, hidden by fur.  
Mon hoisted Deja up on his arms. He took one last look at the dissipating world around him, and nodded with satisfaction to nothing in particular.  
Mon would recall, later in his life, how it felt to be grabbed on every inch of your body, and wrenched out of nothingness. He woke up and thought he had gone blind. He wiped his eyes and got up. He fell like a dead weight to the floor and cried out loudly, he had forgotten that he was supposed to be confined to a wheel chair.  
He wiped his eyes again and looked up at Deja. She was still unconscious. He dragged himself to the to his wheel chair, wiped his eyes one final time and tried to make sense as to what the hell was going on and why all the alarms were blaring. The other 99ers had joined the battle upstairs. He saw Sergio, quaking slightly every time a major explosion occur on the surface.  
"Kid! Come here! Gimme hand with FlatFeet!"  
Sergio went to FlatFeet who still lay semi-paralysed by the stasis tube. Trembling slightly he lifted FlatFeet up.  
FlatFeet's eyes snapped open, and he grabbed Sergio's hands in his own.  
The Lift Operator became calm as he hoisted the unconscious Squirrel from the ground.

On the main floor, a small Tediz group was waiting impatiently. There were three elevators, and right when the middle one made a _ding_, 3 Tediz ran in front of it.  
The doors slowly slid open and the Tediz aimed their rifles.  
The empty elevator was riddled with bullets.  
Satisfied that no one could have survived, the Tediz C.O. made a motion with his paw for another Tediz to cover his back. The Tediz walked slowly towards the elevator, then quickly dove in on his back and shot at the top of the elevator. Surely enough nothing was there.  
The two Tediz resumed position, but then the elevator on the left _dinged_ and opened. The Tediz pointed their guns at it, but nothing came out of the doors. They loosened up, and then turned their backs.  
**THUD  
**Oreos' boots made a thud as they hit the ground. He walked out of the elevator and took out all the Tediz before they knew what hit them. Oreos waited patiently for the third and final lift carrying the others to arrive.

HQ was a mess.  
The Tediz forces were certainly elite level. They were trained to do exactly what they were doing now.  
Attack. Attack until they are 6 feet under.  
The operation must have been pre-planned. The Tediz must have been aware that the 99th was under the weather as a unit.  
Omega's rampage across the country most certainly made sure of that.  
Squirrels with machine gun clips strung all over them ran to and fro, delivering the golden chains of ammunition to the turrets in the base where it was needed the most.  
But there were so many Tediz. It was so unexpected...so unthinkable that they would openly attack HQ...  
The Agency was fighting for its life and losing, but the Tediz needed one thing to remain constant. The 99th must still be battling Omega. If they came out...  
Sarge knew this. As he and his men rode to the top of the shaft he smiled.  
No more games.  
No more tricks.  
Lots of time.

The elevator jerked to a stop. They were waiting for the 'open' button to be jabbed. Sarge held his finger over it.  
Dark rolled his neck and shoulders, popping them in one long fluid motion. He snorted.  
"Here goes..."

_ping! _

The lift doors opened with their distinct ringing.  
Silence. Nothing in sight down the corridors...  
Safeties were dropped. Oreos joined them from nearby as they slowly began to explore the area ahead.  
Dark looked to his right to see a bloodied Squirrel, leaning on the wall because he didn't have enough strength to hold himself up. The Panther leaned down to him. He nodded to the soldier, quite a compliment coming from such an evil man as Dark. The Squirrel handed over his M4, whispering something into the Panther's ear. Nobody heard it but Dark. A smile formed on his face. He nodded to the soldier again.  
A bullet whizzed past his head. He didn't even flinch. It struck the wall behind him, embedding itself there. He set his eyes on the one who shot at him. Dark knelt, pulling up his aim. He pulled the trigger four times. Four bursts emitted from the rifle's muzzle. Dark watched as the bullets slammed into his foe's skull, blowing half of it off. A greenish blood flew up into the air. A grin materialized on Dark's face as he looked back at the others.

Sarge was signalling to the Platoon, now a formidable force assembled in the Agency halls.  
It wasn't really difficult to convey the message.  
He pointed to the right. He made shooting motions with his hands. The he extended the middle finger on his right paw skywards.

Go right, shooting and the bastards...

They turned the corner and the battle to defend their turf began...  
Dark made his way down the corridor. He made it to the end and looked to his left. Nothing. He then looked around the right corner. A bullet whizzed past his head, skimming his left cheek. He pulled back around the corner, hearing a few more bullets slam into the wall. Growling, he stepped out around the corner. He had expected a hall full of Tediz. He found himself facing one. He grinned. The Tediz fired at him. The bullet caught the Panther in the shoulder. Blood flowed down Dark's vest, seeping down onto the floor. He was angry now. He pulled up his aim. He switched the rifle to fully automatic.

The Tediz yelped as the bullets tore through his body. The sharp pain. It was unbearable. His corpse fell to the ground in a heap. It was a mess of stuffing, green, oozing blood, and an outer coating, which was their flesh. Dark walked over to it and spit in it. He then continued down the hall, throwing the spent rifle to the side. As he ran, he unsheathed his long, silver blade. It shimmered in the light. He grinned. Time to have some serious fun.


	22. Till We Meet Again

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

(A/N The most emotionally charged chapter and ending in Platoon history. Read on to find out why. See you when this is all over.)

Chapter 22: Till We Meet Again

Three shots.  
Three dead Tediz. Their bodies all fell to the floor in a loud thump as Red Storm stood holding an M-9. His ice-blue eyes glanced around the now empty room for any more signs of the Tediz. Seeing there was no more he turned around and checked for anyone that was following him.  
Several bullets struck the wall as he started to peer out and pulled back in quickly. Scowling to himself he signalled to Pyst behind him, that it was his turn. The psychopathic Squirrel whipped out a rocket launcher.  
Carefully aiming the large weapon he fired in an arc in which it bounced off the wall and when he heard the screams of pain from the Tediz he knew his target was hit. Glancing out and seeing no Tediz around he and RedStorm walked out.

CoolGuy leapt into the throng, three Tediz leaping in front of him, singling him out from the group.  
"Holy crap!"  
He started firing at them, but they moved far too fast. He managed to hit one of them in the leg, and then he blew its head off. The other two were close. He got out his magnum and fired one bullet. The Tediz dodged and hit CoolGuy's hand with his sword, making him let go of the gun.  
There was a blast of flame and a low hiss as the jinxed pyromaniac, Ajax Fireborn, torched CoolGuy's assailants.

Sarge tried to assess the battle. Since the arrival of the 99th the odds had evened in favour of the Agency. The sirens and red flashing lights continued to blaze. As he fired a shotgun round into a Tediz throng, mutilating limbs and torsos, he could make out his men helping out the struggling basic force of the Agency.  
Ricy had leapt high enough to sore directly down the corridor, and open up an attack front from the southern side. Stealth and Dark were doing what they did best, spurts of green and yellow liquid staining the walls around them. Chael stood up the back, firing and reloading with rapid pace, scoring headshots with each gunshot. WWW slipped in and out of the Tediz line, posing as one of them, speaking Tediz to confuse the grunts, whilst Blaze dashed to Sarge's side, delivering the news that Twisted and Snickers were holding off the West wing, and Cartman and Squeaky were making short work of the main entrance breach, trying as fast as they could to seal it up.  
Yet something nagged Sarge in the back of his mind. Something wasn't right.  
Something had been forgotten.

"Hey, kid… Help me lift him up onto this table…" Mon said, wheeling himself in front of an operating table.  
Speechless and his face blank, almost bored, Sergio Pernandez dropped FlatFeet onto the operating table.  
"Thanks."  
"No problem." He placed his hands in his pockets and stared around the room.  
Empty.  
He could see Deja, recovering quietly in a chair. He saw Mon start checking over the still, but breathing, FlatFeet.  
He gripped a pair of surgical scissors, tossing them lightly, playing with them in an almost sadistic way.  
"Hey those aren't toys…" Mon began.  
Sergio smiled.

"Ceasefire! **Ceasefire!** Captain! Call your men off! **Call them off!**" a broad shouldered and imposing Squirrel blared. The Platoon broke off their assault. Sarge recognised the approaching figure at once.  
Major B.Addass.  
"They asked for a ceasefire?" Sarge asked. The Major nodded.  
Sarge was suspicious.  
"Dark, keep your sword out. Chael get outta sight and ready to shoot from afar. RedStorm, Oreos, flank the sides and block the way out when they come in…"  
Two Tediz, one of lower rank and one of higher entered. The higher ranked one spoke. He spoke in jarbled Tediz. WWW acted as translator.  
"We have called a ceasefire..."  
"We know that already..." the Major interrupted. WWW continued translating.  
"Because we believe you are unaware of the complete danger of the Omega. The Omega was a project gone wrong and sealed away so as to never be activated. Unfortunately you blundering fools went ahead and released it. It has come to our attention that you believe you have cured the one infected. There is one thing we have discovered about the Omega."  
A pause.  
"It is indestructible...At 'death' it becomes frantic. It searches for a way out a way where it can spread to safety...It is a survivor of the best degree."

**_!FLASH BACK!_**  
Sergio Perandez grabbed the freshly fallen FlatFeet from the stasis tube.  
Involuntarily FlatFeet's eyes snapped open. The hysterical Sergio looked directly into FlatFeet's eyes.  
FlatFeet's pupils became thin slits whilst Sergio's grew wide as saucers.  
Sergio became calm. He rushed FlatFeet to Mon.  
**_!FLASH BACK!_**

"The Omega can survive for 30 seconds without a vessel...it can find even the most unlikely methods to transmit itself to another body. Mainly touch, or direct lines of eyesight..."  
A heart beat of silence...then...  
"**DOWN! THAT! SHAFT!**" Sarge roared.

Sarge prayed he wasn't too late.  
The doors to C Lab burst off their hinges.

Sarge fell to his knees...

Mon lay still, metres from his wheel chair, two of the wheel's spoke protruded from his chest, as if the collision had been violent.  
FlatFeet breathed weakly as his blood seeped slowly out of the large slice down the side of his face...  
The Professor's dead body was sprawled onto the floor facing the ceiling, his face a mess of bloody ribbons...

But the thing that forced Captain Rico 'Sarge' Rodriguez to his knees...

Dana 'Déjà vu' Rodriguez was pinned to the ceiling spiked through her palms and the souls of her feet in a mock crucifixion...Her head hung limp.  
There was a message scrawled in blood across the walls of C Lab.

_"Au revoir..."_

Sarge trembled. He shook, the bloody wrath building inside of him. His face was contorted.  
"_Get...her...down..._"  
Dark's normally sinister complexion was now as pale as a sheet. His breathing was short and sharp.  
His hand shaking violently, he brought Deja's down.  
A tear rolled down his cheek...

They all held their breath. Dark stammered the answer.

"_S-S-She's...she's **dead**..._"

Sarge could contain it no longer.  
He screamed before flinging himself onto the corpse and there and then burst into tears...  
One by one…the others followed…

****

A red Panther convertible rolled down a highway, not too far from the disguised transit authority building...  
Sergio Perandez cruised down the sun-flooded high way...  
He was humming...  
"_Time...is on my side..._"  
He laughed.  
"_Oh yes it is...Oh yes it is!_"  
The car drove off into the blood red sunset...the Omega's maniacal laughter trailing behind it…echoing…

**_Au revoir._**


	23. Credits for TFFS

**The 99th Platoon – The FlatFeet Saga  
Act Three: Into the Lair**

Credits

Captain Rico "Sarge" Rodriguez: "G.A.Pap."

Double O Agent Oreos: "Patrick L."

Lieutenant "Chael": "Chael"

Lieutenant Rick "Pyst" Gores: Matt "Pyst Dude" Bujold

Sergeant Major Joshua "FlatFeet" Evans: Josh "FlatFeet" Evans

Sergeant Major Thomas "WWW" Warclat: Thomas "WWW.whydowecare.ca" Blight

Sergeant Major Stealth Levassuer: Christian "Death Lingerer" Levasseur

Sergeant Major Squeaky F. Acore: Tony "Squeaky" Lucero a.k.a. "Zepa" or "Squeaky the Zepa"

Sergeant Major Eric Cartman: "Eric Cartman"

Field Surgeon Renato "The Reverend" Mon: Renato "DaYetiMon" Whitaker

Sergeant "DarkFlame": Ryan "Dark05" Miralos Gonzalez:

Sergeant Kenny "Coolguy" Johnson: Jose "Retroman87" Daniel Osechas

Sergeant Andrew "Ajax Fireborn" Jackson McGregor: "Ajax"

Sergeant Samuel Graham Snickers: Adam "Snickers" Taylor Neal

Sergeant "Twisted": Josh "Raziel Unlimited" Cloos

Sergeant Miles "RedStorm" Crowell: Glenn "Nyskall" Crowell

Master Chef "Ricy": Richard "Ricyfood" Allen

Corporal Blaze S. Reinheart: Nathan "DreamBlaster" Young

Guest starring:  
Major B. Addass: as himself  
Tediz #977: as itself  
Anthrax the Bartender: "Anthraxz"  
Conker T. Squirrel: as himself  
Cherry Evans: as herself  
Professor Wesley Robonovich: as himself  
The Omega: as itself  
Sergio Pernandez: as himself

Sergeant Dana "Déjà vu" Rodriguez: "Deja Vuu"

Sloshed up and with their brains knocked out...The 99th Platoon, in loving memory of Dana "Déjà vu" Rodriguez.

Sarge:  
_A long, long time ago...I can still remember how that music used to make me smile..._  
Pyst:  
_And I knew if I had my chance that I could make those people dance..._  
Mon:

_...and maybe they'd by happy for a while..._

Ricy standing up  
_But February made me shiver, with every paper I'd deliver..._  
Oreos:  
_Bad news on the doorstep. I couldn't take one more step!_  
Dark softly:  
_I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride..._  
FlatFeet:  
_Something touched me deep inside..._  
CoolGuy:  
_The Day the music died...  
All:  
So bye-bye, Miss American Pie.  
Drove my Chevy to the levee but  
the levee was dry.  
Them good ole boys were drinkin' whiskey and Rye,  
singing  
this'll be the day that I die... _

This'll be the day that I die...

_  
_--Started by PatrickSim; written up by Gappap--

No Squirrels, Panthers, Felines, Hawks, Weasels, Hedgehogs, Tediz, Komiz, or Viral Beings were harmed in the making of this picture.

**----------THE END--------**

Closing notes from the author:  
At last, it is complete.  
One of the largest and most epic, in scale, chronicles of the famously notorious 99th Platoon has been completed for your viewing pleasure. It took a while to compile it, but it was well worth the effort. Still I don't tire of sharing these experiences with an audience, and I know the men and women that proudly make up this unit have yet to feel dissatisfied with the fruition of their efforts.  
The Platoon continues to operate, running now into its third year of operation come the autumn season of 2004. The missions grow in scale and depth, and our universe expands at an increasing pace, always including new characters, working for good…or evil. Somehow it all holds together, the main reason being the strength and determination of the team. For that I thank them.  
I also thank you, the viewers, for taking a small amount of time from what is your life, to read about the zany and bizarre antics that twenty odd men and women can pull together.  
Drop a line at the Bad Fur Day boards at if you want to find us. We're always open to try-outs for the 99th.  
The Platoon fights on. With the completion of this fourth fanfiction in the series, an extensive and ever-growing website has been created at is being pieced together, that hosts not only detailed profiles for all of your favourite Plat99n characters, but also plans to host the large amount of fanart that has risen and the fanfiction itself.  
Concerning fanfiction, the next major project would have to be :Plat99n:Reforged: the largest mission to date, consisting of 500 posts amassing to over a MB in size.  
In the meantime there are always the other three missions, Komiz Isle, Escape From Batula's Castle and WWW's Dream, along with the new 'COPS' (Search under 'R' rated)  
If you enjoyed living through the horror of the Omega Chronicle…of the FlatFeet Saga, then my own personal goal has succeeded, satisfaction has been achieved, and I can ask nothing further of you.  
Following the trend set up by the borderline sadistic-genius Omega, I can bid you naught for now but:  
_Adieu._

Thank you for your time.  
_G.A. Pap._


End file.
